


Senior Year

by Uratha



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 05, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Season/Series 05 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 21:13:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 39,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4278135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uratha/pseuds/Uratha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the average high school student, senior year marks a time of transition.  For most, this simply represents a rite of passage of going from teenager to adult.  Some at Beacon Hills High have had to grow up far too fast.  Trying to find some semblance of normalcy is difficult to balance with being part of a werewolf pack, whether you're its True Alpha leader or the mortal who's been there since the beginning.</p><p>Some have already gone their separate ways.  Other familiar faces have returned.  Can friendships become relationships before it's too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Senior Scribe Night

Derek watched Scott and Stiles through the window. The tradition of Senior Scribe night hadn’t changed in the years since he had left Beacon Hills High as a student. He saw Stiles’ reaction, and it brought a similar expression unbidden to his lips because he knew what he had seen. The goofy kid’s smile was infectious, and the former Alpha chastised himself for being so sentimental.

“You really should let them know you didn’t leave town,” a voice called out behind him. Once again, the werewolf scolded himself. There was no way he shouldn’t have heard the man’s approach. His mind finally processing what his senses had tried to alert him to, the man hadn’t even tried to be subtle. It would have been hard to, besides, given the badge, gun, and other metal paraphernalia.

Anyone else “sneaking” up on him would have elicited a far different response, but somehow, yelling at him was like yelling at a scolded puppy. He was worse than even Scott in that way. “You here to break up the party, Parrish?”

Jordan walked over and knelt down next to him. “Hardly. The tradition predates the Sheriff going to school here. He just wants me to make sure everyone stays safe and nothing gets out of hand,” he answered. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t ask a question,” Derek scowled. “You made a statement.”

Jordan’s own brow furrowed. “Fine,” he scowled in return. “Why don’t you let them know you didn’t leave town?”

Derek finally took his eyes off the pair inside to meet Parrish’s gaze. In truth, it was discomforting for the werewolf. Ever since Jordan and a younger Derek (thanks to Kate) had crossed paths, the deputy seemed to be able to read him in a way that made him feel highly unnerved. “They deserve a chance to try to be normal teenagers. That means not getting involved in my relationship drama or old vendettas against me.”

“So what if Braeden skipped town in search of the Desert Wolf? Don’t pretend like this is about her,” Jordan smirked.

Derek cocked his brow questioningly. “What are you talking about?”

“Stiles,” Jordan said simply.

Derek was confused. “That’s not a what. It’s a whom. What about him?”

“A who, since you want to be technical,” Jordan began, nonplussed by the verbal fencing, “the _what_ in this equation would be the fact that you’re in love with him.”

Derek looked at him like he’d grown a second hand. “You can’t be serious. He drives me nuts.”

“Just like you threaten to kill him all the time.”

Derek stared at him incredulously. “Are you seriously telling me that you think our insane dynamic is the equivalent of us pulling one another’s hair on the schoolyard?”

“Exactly,” Jordan smiled.

Derek shook his head. “You are completely out of your mind.”

“Am I?” Jordan challenged. “Then what are you doing here?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I’m checking on a former pack-mate.”

“Scott wasn’t the one you were smiling at,” Jordan pointed out. “If you were really worried about your former pack, you would be letting them know that you’re here for them. There pretty much is no pack right now. Lydia graduated and is away at college. Malia didn’t pass summer school, so she got pissed and went with Braeden in search of her mother. Kira’s father took a new position at Columbia, moving the family back to New York. It’s pretty much just Scott and Stiles right now, and a courageous heart and a baseball bat isn’t the kind of muscle a fledgling Alpha needs.”

Derek sighed. “He’s a True Alpha. He has Liam and Brett. He’ll be fine.”

“Liam is still getting a handle on this whole thing, and Brett is at Devenford Prep. Besides, Brett has his own pack,” Jordan countered.

“His Beta is one of the strongest werewolves I’ve ever met, and Satomi is still trying to rebuild her pack. She pretty much left him under Scott’s watch,” Derek challenged.

Parrish was getting visibly frustrated. “You’re talking about a pack that’s down a were-coyote, a banshee, a kitsune, a veteran Hunter, and you. Don’t be stubborn. They need you.”

“They have you,” Derek reminded him. “You don’t seem to be able to die, and you’re strong. That’s a good trade for me.”

Jordan clinched his fists. “I don’t even know what I am. My abilities are unreliable, and I have a job that means I can’t always be available.”

“Your boss is Stiles’ father. Pretty sure when the chips are down and his son’s life is in danger, he’ll let you take a long lunch. Besides, the Sheriff would prefer the honest cop around to the former fugitive.”

The deputy shook his head. “You were cleared of that years ago, and I wouldn’t be too sure. He knows the man you really are when the chips are down. You’ve saved Stiles and the others more times than pretty much anyone.”

Derek shook his head. “None of this changes anything.”

“Really?” Jordan queried. “The two people Stiles has cared for are gone. For the first time, perhaps in his entire life, his love-life isn’t entangled by relationships. Tell him how you feel then get over the Alpha behavior. Let him decide where things go from there.”

Derek shook his head again. “Stiles is just a kid,” he said, his protestations turning to the logistics, rather than denial.

“He’ll be eighteen in a few months,” Jordan reminded him. “Besides, he’s survived this place, saving the lives of his friends—and you—more than once in the process. I’d say that makes him an adult.”

“April is not a _few_ months,” Derek grunted.

Jordan just smiled. “If you don’t care about him, then why do you know his birthday?”

Derek winced. He didn’t have a comeback for that one. He pinched the bridge of his nose in defeat. “What exactly makes you such an expert, anyway?”

“Because I know what it’s like to have feelings for someone who doesn’t have a clue,” the deputy concluded before walking away, the sounds of his footfalls echoing in Derek’s ears.


	2. Old Friends, New Threats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot happening in this chapter. As such, the chaotic energy is by design, but rest assured, the tone will return more to the previous chapter beginning with the next.

Derek watched them as they left the library. He had to keep enough distance that Scott wouldn’t catch his scent, lest he have to tell them he was still in Beacon Hills—just like Parrish suggested. He didn’t know what aggravated him more: that he let Parrish under his skin… or that he was right. On some level, he supposed he had always known. The kid was just do damned irritating that it made it had to distinguish romantic feelings from the overwhelming desire to wrap his hands around his throat to get him to stop talking for five minutes. In light of this newfound knowledge, though, the werewolf had to admit that there was something comforting about Stiles’ incessant rambling.

Of course, none of this did anything to ease the confusion the pureblood was experiencing about having feelings for Stiles. Though the prevailing sentiment was that everyone either experimented with or had thoughts about other members of their own sex, Derek never had. Well, _never_ might not be the best choice of words. When Kate’s magic had reverted him to a teenager, he’d felt… _something_ for the Deputy who was currently rooting around in his head sowing the seeds he had been all-too-content to leave buried beneath the dirt of his subconscious. He had written it off as a side effect of the spell, but even now, doubts plagued him.

A teenaged Derek was attracted to an adult Jordan, and an adult Derek was attracted to a teenaged Stiles. He contemplated whether he could dig a claw into his brain and cut out the confusion before his regeneration unworked his damage. So distracted by his internal dialogues and self-analysis was he that Derek never saw the creature attacking Scott and Stiles until it was too late. At first, he assumed it was a werewolf, which he had little doubt that the Alpha could handle, but then its _talons_ glowed. He was prepared to reveal his presence to help, consequences be damned, but two other figures quickly joined the fray beneath the bridge, sheltered from the storm.

It was two figures known to Derek, and he knew they were there to help. Isaac and Jackson fought in tandem, a connection that Derek was hard-pressed to explain. Jackson had left for London with only the most basic of training to keep his lupine side in check. Isaac he understood. The Beta had fought side-by-side with Scott and the others against Deucalion and the Alpha Pack, not to mention the Nogitsune-possessed Stiles. He had left for Europe with Chris after Allison’s death, and when the Hunter returned, he said he had left the werewolf in Paris. Yet here they were, together, and fighting like they had been pack-mates for years.

When the unidentified assailant stabbed Scott, Derek saw the crimson light fade from the True Alpha’s eyes, and he thought the unthinkable had happened. It was as though his power had been stolen. Resilient as ever, though, McCall’s eyes flared back to lycanthropic life, and the mystery man was on the run.

Another werewolf growled at the unfamiliar faces that remained. It had all happened so quickly that Derek hadn’t noted Liam’s arrival or Isaac on the ground, bleeding from a grave wound he had suffered. “They’re friends,” Scott smiled reassuringly at his Beta.

“McCall! Help him!” Jackson said in a panicked voice. The former Lacrosse co-captain felt to his knees in an instant. He was clutching Isaac’s hand in a vice-like grip with one hand while cradling his head with his forearm, running his thumb back and forth, brushing the curly locks from the other werewolf’s forehead. When he looked up to Scott again, there were tears in his eyes. “Scott, _please_ ,” he pleaded.

 _The Hell?_ It was the only sentiment Derek could muster. Was this seriously Jackson Whittemore?

Scott didn’t hesitate. He was already moving to Isaac’s side before Jackson had said his name the second time. He grabbed Isaac’s other hand, and black streaks fled from the Beta’s arm to the Alpha’s, his wounds healing almost instantly.

Isaac opened his eyes, and seeing Scott’s face, he smiled. “We came to rescue you,” he chuckled at his friend, and the Alpha laughed in return.

“You’re doing a great job so far,” Scott smiled, standing and pulling Isaac to his feet with him.

Jackson rose to his feet as well. He threw his arms around Isaac for a moment before pushing him away. He punched him squarely in the chest, causing Isaac to struggle for his breath. “What was that for?” he demanded.

“For being your usual reckless self and nearly getting killed,” Jackson said almost flatly, though the other werewolves could still hear his heartbeat racing with fear.

Isaac grinned. “I love you, too.” Jackson just rolled his eyes in response.

“So you two?” Stiles began, his face a mask of his trademark inquisitiveness. “That’s a thing now?”

Scott seemed less interested in their interactions with one another as with their presence here. He seemed positively giddy, in that bouncy, hyperactive way anyone who knew him recognized all too well. “What are you two doing here?”

“Um, who are you two?” Liam asked, raising his hand as though he were asking a question in class.

“Isaac Lahey,” Isaac introduced himself, extending his hand towards the unfamiliar werewolf. “The sour-wolf over here is Jackson Whittemore. He’s trying to be Derek’s mini-me with the broody, scowling thing.”

At the mention of his name, Derek, still eavesdropping, bristled. If he could have said something in protestation without giving himself away, the tenseness in his jaw suggested he would have. Meanwhile, the mention of Derek’s name and the reactions of Scott and Stiles set Liam at ease. He took Isaac’s hand and shook it. “Liam Dunbar. I’m Scott’s Beta.”

Jackson looked him up and down appraisingly. “Beta, huh?” he said dismissively. He turned, practically ignoring Liam, towards Scott. “When Lydia and Lahey said you were an Alpha now, I couldn’t believe it.” Liam growled, eyes flaring. Jackson did the same, his blue against Liam’s gold.

“Everyone calm down,” Isaac chuckled. “Jackson, stop being a dick. Scott and Stiles are used to it, but you’re giving the new kid on the block a shitty first impression.”

Stiles and Isaac embraced, and Jackson stood there awkwardly. Undaunted, Scott pulled him into a hug as well. Jackson rolled his eyes, but he made no attempt to extricate himself. “I’m glad you guys are here,” Scott beamed.

“When I finally checked in with Chris, he filled me in with what’s been going on,” Isaac explained. “Thought you could use a hand around here. He’s apparently been tracking his sister and didn’t think it was something I should have known about sooner; otherwise, I would have been back long before now.”

Scott nodded. “You’re here now. For how long, anyway?”

“Until graduation,” Isaac answered. “We both are.”

Stiles glared at Jackson. “Why are you back anyway? Last I heard, you’d stopped answering Lydia’s texts and phone calls. You didn’t even come back when Allison….” He let the words trail off. He wanted to say _when Allison died_ , but in his head, he heard the words _when I killed Allison_ instead. The guilt still strangled him every time he thought about it.

“Stiles!” Scott scolded.

Jackson waved him off. “He’s right. I should have been here for that. I was trying to start a new life, and I knew if I kept in contact with anyone from the pack, someone or something would drag me back.”

“So why are you here now?” Liam asked, genuine curiosity, rather than accusation, lacing his words.

“I wasn’t ready then,” Jackson answered, more to his former classmates than to the new face. “I was still trying to come to grips with what happened. I wouldn’t have been any good to you then.”

Jackson didn’t utter the word _Kanima_. It was a dagger in his heart just hearing it. No one blamed him for his actions, since the deaths were Matt and Gerard’s doing. No one blamed Jackson, that is, except for Jackson.

“So what have you been up to?” Scott asked, of either or both, in an effort to ease the awkward tension. Only Scott could ask a question in such a tone that, even after a battle, it was akin to “What did you do over summer vacation?”

Isaac smiled that grin that made Jackson shift uneasily. It was mischievous to everyone else, but it was lascivious to Jackson, having a rousing effect on him. “Jackson here has been in a boarding school in London. Got himself a proper flat, a new pack… the works.”

“A new pack?” Stiles repeated.

“Omegas over there don’t do so well,” Jackson explained. “Started out in name only, but I came to think of them as family after a while. It was hard to leave, but they understood.”

Scott placed his hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “You’re not an Omega here. You’re one of us,” he assured him. Jackson shifted uncomfortably. “What about you, Isaac? You been in France the whole time?”

“No,” Isaac shook his head. “Chris had me helping out some Hunters over there, and that eventually brought me to London. That’s where Jackson and I ran into one another.”

Stiles snorted. “Seems like more than a casual run-in.”

“Bite me, Stilinski!” Jackson growled.

“I was there for a while. Jackson helped me, and we became close,” Isaac explained, ignoring the outburst.

Stiles was about to make some inane comment about “puppy love”, but the moment he opened his mouth, Scott cut him a look that made him think otherwise. That prompted a sulking expression of obedience. “I’m glad you’re both back,” Scott smiled at the pair. “And I’m glad you two are together. Two of my friends in love with one another? I can’t ask for anything better than that.”

Jackson shifted awkwardly. Proclamations of affection were never his strong suit, be they with Allison, Lydia, or, now, Isaac. Isaac just nodded at Scott and grinned.

Derek continued to observe. He wondered how Scott would feel if he knew how he felt about Stiles. He almost laughed at the absurd prospect of caring about how Scott felt on the matter, given that he didn’t know how Stiles felt.

“Isaac and I need to go by my parents. We just landed and came straight here,” Jackson said.

Scott, still smiling, nodded at the pair as they took their leave. “See you in school tomorrow.”

Scott and Stiles were filling Liam in about Isaac and Jackson for the next few minutes. As it wasn’t exactly newsworthy to Derek, he finally turned to head home. When he did so, though, he found Isaac and Jackson staring at him. The latter looked impatient, and the former had his arms folded across his chest expectantly.

A slow smirk crept across Isaac’s face. “So you finally figured out you’re in love with Stiles, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like many people, the thought of Isaac/Jackson really came to fruition after the scene of them dancing together in the club (I try to pretend Erica wasn't there, lol). I'm a big fan of that pairing, so there's a subtle nod in this chapter to "The Strength of the Wolf" by LennaNightrunner and Savannah_Clover. I don't know them, but I'm a fan of their work, which inspired me to include that ship in this tale :)


	3. Hard Truths and Going Soft

Derek opened his mouth to say something.  No sounds came out, though, since he wasn’t entirely sure what that something would have been anyway.   Instead, all he could do was incredulously stare at his two former Betas.  Finally, Derek regained enough of his wits to speak.  His jaw clenched, his brow furrowed, and his trademark scowl returned.  “How did you two find me?” he asked, genuinely curious as he had kept a reasonable distance and was trying to conceal his scent to the best of his ability.

“We’re your former Betas,” Isaac explained.  “As our former Alpha, we still have a connection to you.  Just as you used to be able to sense us through that link, we’ve learned to do the same in reverse.”

Derek cocked one eyebrow.  He’d never heard of such, and if the pair had mastered it, then their own abilities very nearly outstripped his own.  “Really?” he asked, hoping for more explanation.

Jackson, though not the same person he once was, still possessed that same condescending smirk that had almost caused Derek to kill him.  “No.  Not really,” he answered, that chastising expression seemingly directed at Isaac.  “He thinks he’s funny.”

“Then how did you find me?” Derek repeated.  “And why does everyone think I’m in love with Stiles?”

“Because,” Isaac began, placing a hand upon the pureblood’s shoulder, “you are so busy watching him from afar, you didn’t even notice your phone.  I called it when we were headed back to the car, and even though it’s on silent, we could hear it vibrate.  You neither felt it or nor heard it, meaning your attentions were firmly elsewhere.”

Derek turned to look at Isaac’s hand and growled.  Isaac instantly removed it, lest it be removed in a far more permanent manner.  He and Derek were friends, but he knew he was treading a precariously thin line by touching on a very sensitive subject.  Derek opened his mouth to protest, but Isaac shook his head with a smile.

“What?” the former Alpha demanded gruffly.

“Don’t bother protesting,” Isaac grinned.  “You’ve been in love with him since before you turned me.  I could see it then, even if you couldn’t.  I’m guessing based on the accelerated heartbeat I heard drowning out the phone when we approached, you’ve finally realized it to.”

Derek glowered at him.  “You’re insane.” He was just really admitting his feelings to himself.  He wasn’t ready for the whole world to not only know about them, but know more about them than he did.  It seemed like the first person he should be talking about his feelings for Stiles was Stiles.  The problem was that “Big Bad Derek Hale” was scared shitless by the very prospect.  Right now, he was deflecting to try to hide his fear, but he could tell he wasn’t doing a good job not by Isaac’s face but Jackson’s.

“He’s right.  He’s annoying as Hell, but he’s right,” the one-time Kanima agreed.  “I didn’t see it then, but I was kind of a self-absorbed douchebag.”

Isaac cut a grin towards him.  “ _Was?_ ”

Jackson, nonplussed, just shrugged.  “I probably still am,” he said, a smile creeping across his lips.

“ _Probably?_ ” Isaac mocked.

Jackson’s expression hardened into one of scolding.  “ _Anyway_ ,” he continued, “it’s pretty obvious to me now looking back.  I just have one question.”

Derek was certain he was going to regret this, but he was so disarmed by this whole exchange that he responded, “What?” before he thought better of it.

Jackson’s stoic façade melted, and this curious—if taunting—look gripped his features.  “Why _Stillinski?_   Me?  Sure, I’m everyone’s type.  Lahey?  He got pretty hot after you bit him.  McCall if you want that puppy that follows you home type.” He chuckled.  “I mean, if you’re going to rob the cradle, the new Beta back there’s cute….”

Derek growled in warning, and the tone was far from playful.  Jackson held up his hands in surrender.  “Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” he apologized, trying desperately not to laugh.  “Whatever floats your boat.  I just had no idea Stiles was anyone’s type.”

Isaac shoved his shoulders, pushing him away.  “You’re not helping, Babe,” he said, trying to cut off Derek’s inevitable response.  “Go home and see your parents.  You guys need some quality time before you bring home the boyfriend.”

“You want me to come back and pick you up?” Jackson asked, almost oblivious to the daggers being shot his way.  The shift to concern and caring was so abrupt—and so obviously natural—that the once Alpha was taken aback.

Isaac shook his head.  “I’m fine.  Thanks,” he said, leaning forward to kiss Jackson gently on the lips.  It was a chaste display, but one filled with obvious emotion.  The uncharacteristic gentleness absolutely stymied Derek.

Jackson gave Isaac’s hand a squeeze.  “Hurry home,” he smiled.  He started away, but almost as an afterthought, he turned back to Derek.  “Good to see you, Derek.  I mean it.  But if you want my advice, don’t be the stubborn ass that I was.  Tell him—sooner, rather than later.  You’ll be glad you did.”

After Jackson disappeared into the night towards his car, Derek, whose brain finally caught up, looked at his other former Beta.  “Who is he, and what did he do with Jackson Whittemore?”

Isaac smiled.  “That’s the _real_ Jackson Whittemore.  He just didn’t know it back when you knew him.”

“I guess I’m glad Scott didn’t let me kill him,” Derek said nonchalantly.

Isaac chuckled.  “Yeah, thanks for that.  It would have made our getting together a lot more difficult.”

Derek quit staring at the path Jackson had trod when he departed and quirked a questioning eyebrow at Isaac.  “So you two?  I’m confused.  When?  How?”

“Yeah.  I can see that,” Isaac nodded.  “Before you turned me, I was invisible.  I never really had thoughts about relationships, because I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to be in one with me, certainly not Jackson Whittemore.  You gave me a new life, filled with confidence, and I started to see the world—and myself—differently.”

Derek listened intently.  “So you realized you were in love with him?”

Isaac shook his head.  “Not right away.  The hyped-up libido was confusing.  Initially, I was crushing on Scott, of all people.  I realized, though, that it was that burgeoning Alpha that I was drawn to.  He’s the same age as me, but he wanted to protect me, like a big brother or something.  With Cam gone, there was definitely an appeal in that.” He grinned again, “Not that I didn’t have other thoughts about him, because he is definitely attractive, but I realized that was the hormones rather than a real romantic connection.  My heightened hormones had me fall in and out of love a hundred times: Erica, your sister, and Allison, just to name a few.”

Genuinely interested, Derek wanted more information.  “So when did Jackson enter the picture?” he asked.  “I mean, in that way.”

“I know what you mean,” Isaac assured him gently.  “Honestly?  It all started in that club, when we were dancing together.  Erica was between us, but in a way, she wasn’t even there to me.  Jackson was all lizard mind-controlled, but it was weird.  Without the pretense and affectation of ‘being’ Jackson Whittemore, I really saw him for the first time.  I was physically drawn to him in a way I’ve never experienced with anyone else, but I was still pretty new at the werewolf thing, Erica was there, and basically, there were a thousand reasons I wrote it off as nothing.”

“What changed?”

Isaac smiled, a fond memory obviously taking hold in his thoughts.  “When I ran into him again in London.  He was still the old Jackson, and yet he wasn’t.  The old behaviors and protective safeguards were only just beginning to crumble, but he was isolated.  Ever since the whole experience before he left Beacon Hills, he withdrew into himself.  It was as though he wanted to disappear because he thought every time someone looked at him, they saw a murderer.”

Derek sighed.  “He wasn’t responsible.  I now know that, of course.  I was an inexperienced Alpha, and I almost killed him for something he was blameless in, especially given that it was me that turned him into that monster.  When he was finally a werewolf, I taught him the basics to survive, but I never realized just how damaged he truly was.  That’s on me.”

“No,” Isaac assured him.  “That’s on him.  He wasn’t ready to let anyone in then.  You know Jackson, at least as he was.  No one could help him until he let them.”

Derek’s expression softened, his former Beta’s words feeling like his sins were being washed clean.  “I’m glad he finally let you in.”

Isaac nodded.  “It was a slow process.  A lot of the groundwork had been laid by his pack over there.  After that, let’s just say my persistence paid off.  I finally proved to him, once and for all, who was more stubborn.”

Derek laughed in spite of himself.  “You’re good for him.”

“He’s good for me, too,” Isaac assured him.  “Just like you and Stiles are good for one another.”

Derek shifted awkwardly.  The return of the conversation to the original, uncomfortable topic putting him on the defensive.  Their frank discussion, however, set him at ease enough to be honest.  “How can you say I’m good for him?  I’m poison to everyone.  I got my family killed.  I got my own Betas killed.  Not to mention every relationship I’ve ever had ends with me murdering them or them trying to murder me.”

“Kate killed your family.  Deucalion and the Alpha pack killed your Betas.  You put Paige out of her misery—that’s mercy, not murder,” Isaac enumerated.  Smiling, he added, “And I hear your current ex is neither dead nor trying to kill you, so I’d chalk that one up in the ‘win’ column.  Though I willingly admit that your taste in women has left a lot to be desired.  Definitely a sign that you should probably start casting a net in a different lake now.”

Derek couldn’t help but laugh at that.  The easy smile hearkened back to a Derek that even he usually considered lost.  Smiles were rare, but a laugh was unheard of.  At the heart of it, though, he was beginning to face the fact that only two people seemed to really bring out the best of him consistently.  There was Scott, who was like his little brother… and there was Stiles.

Isaac poked him in the chest.  It snapped Derek out of his reverie.  “The other reason I know you two are good for each other is you just asked me how I could say you were good for him.  Think about your choice of words,” he smiled.  “Your thoughts were about you would affect him.  You already know, in your heart, that he’s good for you.”

It was a punch to the gut—for the second time tonight.  “Why does everyone seem to know how I feel about Stiles but me and Stiles?”

“And Scott,” Isaac added.

“And Scott,” Derek laughingly agreed.

“Well, Scott is a hormonal teenager who is one of the best people I’ve ever known, but he’s been a little fixated in his own relationships to the point of being practically blind to anyone else’s,” Isaac grinned.  “As for you and Stiles?  He had the same problem, fixating on Lydia and then Malia.  Now, though?  Well, you two are just clueless.”

Isaac placed his hand upon Derek’s shoulder again.  This time, however, Derek made no effort to remove it.  The former Beta gave it a reassuring squeeze.  “Maybe now that you’ve figured it out, you should help him do the same before your chance passes you by.”

Turning and walking away, Derek could see the illumination on Isaac’s phone as he texted.

Isaac: _“On my way now.  Nice night for a walk.  Wish you were here. XOXO.”_

Jackson: _“Okay, Gossip Girl :)_ _Be safe, and come home soon.  I love you.”_

Derek looked back into the distance where Scott and Stiles were still talking to Liam.  His eyes never left the object of his affection until the trio were gone from sight.  What in the Hell was he going to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kind words--I love the feedback!


	4. Beautiful Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A momentary break from the feels as I interrupt them for a bit of action (more of the frantic and disjointed scene changes by design). It's a variation (obviously, given my cast list) of the events of the most recent (as of this posting) Episode 5.03 "Dreamcatchers", so if you haven't seen it yet, tread with caution. Here be SPOILERS! Back to your regularly scheduled drama of the emotional kind with the next chapter. This was me setting up some things to come.

“Scott?” Ms. Ramsey asked.

Distracted, the young Alpha flipped through the pages.  “Yeah.  One sec.  Sorry.”

Sitting next to him, Jackson followed the line of sight to where he saw Liam standing the hallway.  His heightened werewolf senses heard the same thing Scott did.  “She’s here… she’s in history class right now.  Tracy… she’s here.”

 

“Heart rate is 250,” Deaton began, after clicking off his penlight.  “Evidence of an allogenic skin graft on the right shoulder.  Now, this silvery substance at her lips is not something I’ve seen.  It almost looks like mercury.”

The emissary tossed the black powder into the air, where it hung momentarily before falling into a perfect circle on the floor.  “Don’t worry, Stiles.  Tracy won’t be able to cross a line of Mountain Ash.  She’s not going anywhere.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of what I’m afraid of,” Stiles frowned.

“Well, you and I will be able to get out of here no problem,” the veterinarian assured him.  He looked over at Scott, Isaac, and Jackson.  “You three?  Not so much.”

 

“It wasn’t a werewolf,” Stiles said, his face pressed heavily against the floor.

Scott nodded, or he would have, were he not equally paralyzed.  “Kanima.”

“Hey, Deaton, how the hell did she get through the mountain ash?” Stiles yelled.

“I don’t know,” the druid confessed.  “It’s a barrier no supernatural creature should be able to cross.”

Isaac managed to quirk an eyebrow.  “Scott did it.”

“Once,” Scott admitted.  “But it almost killed me.”

 

At the urging of their advisor, the werewolves tried to focus their regeneration into purging the venom from their body.  When Jackson showed the first signs of movement.  “I don’t think she cut me that deep,” he groaned.

“Or perhaps your system is just more resistant to its incapacitation,” Deaton told the former Kanima.

Staggering to his feet, he started for the door.  “Jackson?  Jackson, wait for us!” Isaac exclaimed.

“There’s no time,” Jackson replied.  “I can’t let it escape.”

 

Unsure of how his former co-captain was faring, Scott finally managed to pull himself up onto the edge of the examination table.  His legs, still unsteady, threatened to give out on him and return him, toppling, to the floor.  He was spared the indignity when a new arrival managed to halt his fall.

“Derek?” Scott asked.  “What are you doing here?”

Derek looked like a deer in headlights.  It was Isaac who came to his rescue.  “I called him last night,” he said truthfully.  Without expounding further, he told his former Alpha, “The girl that we brought in here is a Kanima.  Jackson’s gone after it!”

Derek had been helping Stiles up, his attentions so intently focused on the teen that he barely registered what his former Beta had told him.  He realized that he either needed to go after his _other_ former Beta and this girl or he was going to have to explain what he was really doing here.  He had been up all night rehearsing just that, trying to think of exactly what he was going to say.  Now that he was here, facing him, he couldn’t find the words—or the courage to say them.  He could face certain death… but he couldn’t face Stiles… not yet.

“You okay?” Derek finally asked awkwardly.

Confused, Stiles simply nodded.  Stiles wasn’t the only one.  Scott was starting at the pair, well, _staring_ at one another.  Isaac saw the perplexed look—the gears turning in his friend’s head—and it was all he could do not to smile.  Mentally biting his tongue, he instead tried to snap everyone out of it.  “Be careful,” he told him.   The reverie broken, Derek nodded and went after them.

 

When Jackson got to the police station, Parrish was doing his best to keep the creature at bay and away from Melissa McCall—the date of Sheriff Stilinski, who was currently helpless on the floor.  Jackson didn’t know Jordan from Adam, but the fact that the deputy was resolutely facing the creature without shitting himself meant he was the one Lydia had told him about when he finally did start keeping in touch again.

Before he could get to the unidentified supernatural man’s side, Tracy stabbed him with her tail.  Jackson silently prayed that his vaunted invulnerability was true because he had no time to reach Parrish before the Kanima had turned her attentions towards him.  She swung at him repeatedly with her claws.  He managed to avoid each swipe before leaping atop a desk.  Everyone in the station was behind him, paralyzed.

Jackson wasn’t sure what he was going to do.  Part of him wanted to cower in the face of this monster that had once been him.  Another part gave him a courage he had no idea he possessed.  He wanted to destroy the thing and save the girl, just as Scott and the others had saved him.  If he had to die, he suddenly realized he was ready to do just that.  Perhaps that’s why, when she stabbed at him with her tail, his claws connected… severing it cleanly.  He had no idea how he had done it, and he had no time to ponder an explanation.  Whatever strength it had taken drained him to the point of collapse.  His eyelids surrendered him to darkness, leaving no witnesses to the flash of crimson that had flooded his irises for just a moment—Jackson himself none the wiser.

 

When Derek finally arrived, the Sheriff—on the ground—warned him to be careful.  As the werewolf carefully surveyed the scene, he found a drained Jackson holding pressure against a grievous wound in Parrish’s abdomen.  “Jordan!” Derek exclaimed, the concern in his tone surprising even himself.  It was enough to make Jackson raise an eyebrow.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Jordan smiled weakly.

The expression on his former Beta’s face said otherwise.  “They’re in the basement,” Jackson told Derek quietly.  He had wanted to follow himself when he awoke, but when he saw the deputy, he was resolved that he couldn’t let anyone else die to one of those things.  He was also so weak he could barely stand.

Derek’s brow furrowed as it went from scowl to confusion.  “They?”

“Tracy and Scott’s mother,” Jackson answered.

After a curt nod, Derek descended the stairs.  A few moments later, Tracy was dead, and the one-time Alpha’s regeneration was trying to heal a concussion.  It had happened so quickly that he never even had a chance to transform.  Those… _things_ had slammed his head into the wall with a force unlike any he had ever experienced.  The proverbial stars still swimming in his field of vision, the staggered werewolf heard the word “ _Terminal_.”


	5. Waiting Area

Stiles handed a cup of coffee to his father. It was the crappy kind in a flimsy paper cup that wasn’t found anywhere outside of antiquated hospital vending machines. It had cost him a whopping quarter, but when the Sheriff took a drink, he was fairly certain he had been robbed. The Kanima venom had worn off of everyone hours ago, but in the haste to get Parrish to the hospital, Sheriff Stilinski obviously hadn’t taken the time to go home and change. His suit was now heavily wrinkled, the tie undone and sitting atop a weathered and dated magazine that hadn’t been relevant in over half the lives of some of those sitting with him in the waiting room.

Taking a seat next to Scott, Stiles collapsed awkwardly. He and his father didn’t have the blessing of werewolf regeneration to keep them as invigorated as the others, but even they were obviously weary from the night’s events. Jackson’s head was resting back against the wall, and Isaac was fast asleep on his shoulder. When he saw his former Alpha staring at him, Jackson offered him a soft smile. Blushing at having been caught, Derek’s eyes immediately returned to the floor. He felt exposed and vulnerable with the couple knowing his heart’s desires, and he was developing a sinking feeling that they weren’t the only ones. He didn’t dare even look at Stiles, but he could feel Scott’s eyes boring a hole into him.

The Steampunk-garbed trio that had so easily dispatched Derek had already been discussed ad infinitum. It left them with no answers… only more questions. Rather than revisit the conversation, the pureblood’s opted for a safer subject in a desperate plea to deflect attentions from himself. Genuinely curious, he asked Jackson, “I still don’t understand how you managed to do what you did to her. Not to rehash bad memories, but when you were a Kanima, we were lucky to put a scratch on you.”

Reflexively, Jackson shrugged. It caused Isaac to stir, and Jackson instinctively brought his hand up to the other werewolf’s cheek to quiet him. “It’s okay, babe. Go back to sleep,” he said softly. Without ever opening his eyes, Isaac smiled and nodded, nuzzling his nose into the shirt that captured the scent he had obviously grown so accustomed to. Jackson continued, barely above a whisper. “No idea. The stuff that came out of her was nothing like me then, either. Maybe she was some weaker version or something.”

“You saw her at the clinic,” Stiles reminded him. “Crossing mountain ash? She was stronger than you… I mean the old you. Not _you_ you, but the ….”

Jackson glared at him. “I know what you mean, Stilinksi. I don’t know what to tell you. Can you just shut up already?”

Stiles opened his mouth to fire back a retort. Jackson was already waiting for it, but it never came. Just as he was about to speak, Melissa McCall came out of the operating room. She pulled down her scrub mask to give an update to the Sheriff, but it was Derek who sprang to his feet first. “How is he, Mrs. McCall?”

If she was surprised by who was expressing interest, it didn’t show. Instead, she just smiled and gently reminded him, “Melissa.”

“Melissa,” Derek repeated, smiling gratefully at the woman who looked at him in a way, free of judgment, that the rest of Beacon Hills rarely did. She had reservations when he first became a part of Scott’s life, but she quickly formed her own opinion of him that was much higher than most—often higher than he felt he deserved.

Everyone but Jackson and Isaac were standing by now, and even the former was trying to extricate himself from the latter so he could join them. “How is he, Melissa?” the Sheriff asked.

“He’s stable,” she assured him. Her date for the evening was far more than the deputy’s boss. He was practically becoming a father-figure to him. In many ways, that described both the Sheriff and Melissa. They were something of surrogate parents to the entire pack. She motioned for the werewolves to go on inside to see Parrish. “I told Liam’s stepfather the truth, at least part of it—that Tracy had been the one who attacked the police station after killing her father and psychiatrist.”

The Sheriff nodded. “Did he ask too many questions?”

She shook her head. “I told him I overheard one of your men mention something about using some sort of reptile venom to cause the paralysis before stabbing them with something sharp.”

“True enough,” he agreed almost mournfully. “Do you ever miss it?”

She looked at him strangely. “Miss what?”

“Being clueless,” he smiled. “Not having to worry about protecting them from things they’re better equipped to protect us from.”

She smiled back. “Sometimes. But there’s a whole lot of maternal pride in knowing I raised a son who can handle the power and responsibility that he does. They’re all such good kids. They shouldn’t be burdened with constantly saving this town and everyone in it like they are.”

He nodded.

“What about you?” she asked.

“What about me?” he repeated.

She smiled more broadly. “Can you honestly say you’re not amazed by your son? He’s the one mortal in this whole mess, and he never flinches… never hesitates. His heart and courage constantly astound me. You and Claudia raised an amazing young man.”

The Sheriff smiled, admitting, “Yeah. He is something, isn’t he?” When Melissa yawned, he reached down by where he was sitting to grab his coffee, offering it to her. “It’s not very good.”

“I work here, remember?” she grinned, taking the cup and squeezing his hand with her other in appreciation. “Not very good is the most glowing recommendation that coffee’s gotten in years.”

He smiled more broadly himself. “Do you have to be here much longer?”

She shook her head. “Just some charting to finish up before I check on Jordan again. Then I’m going home to have a deep, meaningful relationship with my pillow. I’m off tomorrow night if you’d like to try again.”

“Absolutely,” he assured her. “If I wait for a dull night in Beacon Hills with no supernatural threats to take you out again, you and I both will be dateless until we’re old and gray.”

She chuckled in agreement. “Pick me up at 8, then,” she said, starting back into the recovery room with the others. She stopped to turn back and ask him a question.

“Derek?” he guessed. She hadn’t even had to say it aloud.

She nodded in affirmation. “Looks like he’s finally figured it out. What about Stiles?”

Sheriff Stilinski shook his head. “What was the word we used earlier? Oh, yeah… clueless.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I love Stiles' Dad and Lydia's Mom hooking up on the show (because they're married in real-life and apparently a super-adorable couple, according to the rest of the cast), I love me some Sheriff Stilinski and Mama McCall. And obviously, Jackson and Isaac, whose pairing makes me squee :) Thanks for all the feedback. More soon!


	6. Playing With Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short interlude chapter before the next update (ideally tomorrow). Contains a scene from 5.04 "Condition Terminal" with obvious changes. No major spoilers.

Parrish was proving to be as resilient as everyone had hoped.  Despite this, Melissa only gave everyone a few moments to check on him before she told them they needed to leave so that he could get some rest.  Derek had stood in the back of the room and said nothing while the others joyfully interacted with the Deputy.  For the physically largest of the werewolves, he had an uncanny ability to go unseen.  That was usually as a result of some predatory instincts that involved stalking his prey, but now?  Now, he seemed almost _small_.  If it was by design, though, it wasn’t a precursor to an attack.  The pack had already exited, leaving him and Jordan alone.

“Derek,” Melissa began, but before she got the rest of her sentence out, Jordan placed a hand up her forearm.

He offered a reassuring smile.  “It’s fine.  I’d actually like him to stay if that’s okay.”

Melissa looked at each man in turn, and after a moment of hesitation, she nodded.  “You can stay with him.  He’ll be in recovery for another hour or so, then he’ll be going to a room.”

Once she was gone, Derek opened his mouth to say something, but when he looked, Jordan was fast asleep.

 

When Parrish awoke later, he immediately wondered if he was dreaming.  His blankets were pulled down to his hips, his gown was hiked up to his pecs, and Derek was staring at his naked torso.  “Um…?”

“It’s completely healed,” Derek explained.

Jordan shook his head.  “What is?” he asked, genuinely confused.

Derek pointed to where the Kanima-like creature had attacked him.  “Where Tracy stabbed you.  There’s no trace of it now.”

The Deputy looked down to find the unmarred flesh that Derek was scowling at. “I don’t understand.”

“You were brought in last night,” Derek told him, pointing to where the daylight was filtering through the curtains.  “I was asleep until a little while ago, when I was awakened by the smell of burning flesh.  Neat trick.”

Jordan smiled at him.  “I only know one trick, and it’s with a playing card.”

“Well, this one involves a lighter and your hand,” Derek retorted nonchalantly, grabbing the lighter that he had borrowed from one of the nurses who readily gave it over, no doubt thinking he was a smoker—and apparently attractive, since she told him to keep it.

Parrish grinned.  “This is sounding less like a magic trick and more like assault.”

“It’s a little dangerous, yes,” the werewolf admitted, “but it’s not as bad as being lit on fire in a deputy sheriff’s car... which, by the way, you walked away from unscathed.”

Jordan shook his hand.  “Not entirely.  I had to pay for the uniform,” he deadpanned.

“Give me your hand,” Derek told him, dismissively ignoring the attempts at humor.

Rebuffed, Parrish narrowed his eyes at the lighter.  “I think I’ve seen something like this in a movie.”

“Lawrence of Arabia,” Derek confirmed, taking Parrish’s hand.  Awkwardly, he was trying to deny (to himself) the sudden flushing and sparks the contact had sent rushing through his body.  “The book was better.”

“Remind me of what the trick was,” Jordan said, trying to change the subject himself.  Nonetheless, he wasn’t able to stop himself from adding, “Not minding.”

Derek lit the lighter, inching it closer to the deputy’s hand before simply letting it stay there.  “Ow!  Son of a …,” he laughed.

The werewolf grimaced.  “You can last longer than that,” he grunted, instantly regretting his choice of words.  “This time, I want you to do something different.  Don’t think about the flame.  Don’t think about the heat.  Don’t think about it hurting.  Don’t even look at it.”

In an unabashed display of trust, Jordan nodded.  “Okay.”

After an indeterminate length of time, Derek withdrew the flame and shook his head.  It snapped Parrish from his reverie.  “My thumb was too close to the flame.”

Jordan was about to say something about werewolf regeneration when his mind closed his mouth.  He remembered the fate of the Hale home and Derek’s family inside.  He regretted even the momentary lapse in judgement in favor of levity.  Thanking whatever higher power short-circuited his stupidity, he managed to ask instead, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Derek assured him.  The flames still scared him to this day.  Jordan’s unexplained connection to fire terrified him.  Something about the man, though,  comforted him in a way that was both polar opposite—and just as good—as the way Stiles made him uneasy.  “What about you?  Did it hurt?  When you were looking at me, your eyes kind of drifted.  What were you thinking about?”

In an effort to deflect, Parrish told him about the dream.  Derek told him about the Nemeton.  That left the discussion in a deafening silence.  It was Jordan who spoke first.  “Thanks.”

Derek’s eyebrow went up.  “For what?”

“For trying to help me figure it out,” he replied.  “Lydia’s still working on it, too, but it’s obviously harder long distance.”

Derek nodded, saying nothing for a while.  He desperately hoped Jordan would be the first to talk again, but the deputy seemed content to let him wallow in his misery.  Finally, the former Alpha picked a spot on the floor and focused on it as though his gaze could bore a hole into it.  “Thank you.”

“For what?” It was Jordan’s turn to ask.

Derek said the name, barely above a whisper, as though saying it too loudly would levy some unthinkable curse.  “Stiles.”

Jordan nodded.  “Have you decided to tell him?”

Derek nodded back.  “If I can figure out how.”

“Don’t overthink it,” Jordan told him.  “Just tell him what’s in your heart.”

Derek shook his head.  “I don’t know what’s in my heart,” he said, the discussion of feelings clearly uncomfortable.

Jordan smiled.  “Yes, you do.”

The pureblood started to protest again, but Derek was stymied.  Parrish just shook his head.  “You should be with him, not me.  As we’ve already established, I’m fine.  Quit making excuses and go to him.”

Defeated in his efforts to talk himself out of it, the werewolf had the facial expression of a kicked puppy.  Parrish was right: he did need to tell Stiles.  Without further preamble, he left the hospital room, and the deputy was alone.

Parrish picked up the decks of cards that both Isaac and Stiles had bought for him separately in the gift shop, as well as the lighter Derek had left behind.  With the flame lit, he looked at the result of his own “trick”: the two Kings of Spades, one pristine, the other burned.  “You should be with him, not me,” he repeated.


	7. Incongruous Parts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter with far more MAJOR spoilers for Episode 5.04 "Condition Terminal" with obvious artistic liberties taken with the cast.
> 
> This chapter changed from what I had originally envisioned because of the way the episode ended. It's a perfect set-up for some developments, so you can expect less canon content and more of the good stuff starting with the next chapter. If you've seen it, you no doubt know why someone who suddenly realized they were in love with Stiles would be... um... _stressed_.

“Can you put your phone away for five minutes?” Liam asked.  “Scott can howl if he needs us.”

Jackson rolled his eyes as he told Isaac he would text him later.  “I feel like I should be doing something.”

“You are,” Liam assured him.  “You’re my wingman tonight.”

Jackson rolled his eyes even more fiercely.  He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d agreed to accompany the kid.  Mostly, it was to spare himself from a night of digging through the dusty tomes of the Argents.  Isaac had volunteered to help do just that, leaving Jackson to this onerous task—that Isaac had also volunteered for.  “I still don’t understand what I’m doing here.  If you like this girl, _talk_ to her,” he deadpanned.  “Novel concept, I know.”

“I don’t know what I feel for her,” Liam told him.  “But I feel something, and considering the state of my dating life, I need a wingman, co-pilot, and a really hot flight attendant.”

The former Kanima stopped cold in his tracks.  “I’m definitely not your hot flight attendant.”

“Okay, yeah, choices are limited,” Liam admitted, “but at least here, you can get drunk.”

Jackson was just about to point out the newer werewolf exactly how much money that might take, but the awkward exchange between the Beta and this Hayden person—who did not seem pleased to see him—he felt a pang of sympathy.  With far deeper pocketbooks than the younger boy, he got them inside.

As the pair walked in, they surveyed the scene.  It was primarily guys, many of whom were dancing half-naked, and the deafening beat of dance music.  “What, exactly, was wrong with Jungle?  When Danny wanted to pick up a guy, I’d go with him there,” Jackson complained.  “We don’t look old enough to be here.”

“Neither does he,” Liam pointed out.  Jackson followed his line of sight to where he saw Brett dancing with a girl.  Based on the young wolf’s face, the older wolf couldn’t help but wonder if the girl who had let them in didn’t have some competition.

Jackson smirked a bit.  He was wondering what, precisely, had changed since he’d been gone that the majority of the pack, who’d had squabbles over various females since childhood, seemed far more interested in the other sex now.  He, himself, had been with both guys and girls off and on over the years, but the rest of them?  It seemed like a fairly recent development.  He could certainly understand Liam’s confusion.  Being a werewolf heightened not just senses but libido as well, and their wolf nature seemed even less concerned with convention than the prevailing sentiment of Beacon Hills.

Realizing Liam was still staring, Jackson cleared his throat just enough to snap him out of it.  “So is this club mixed?” he asked, making idle conversation.

No sooner had Jackson asked the question did Brett start dancing with a shirtless go-go boy.  “Ish.”

 

A scream echoed down the hospital hallway.  “Mom, what’s happening to him?” Scott asked.

“It’s the pain,” Melissa answered.  “Nothing’s working.  We’ve already pumped him full of morphine.”

As the boy whimpered, the sympathetic Alpha seemed in almost emotional pain as the teen’s physical.  “Can’t they do anything to help him?”

“We can put him in a medically-induced coma,” his mother replied.  “It’s how we help burn victims deal with the pain.”

Scott pushed up a sleeve.  “Let me see if I can help.”

“Please, make it stop!” the boy screamed.  “ _Please_ make it stop.”

As the boy began to calm, Scott groaned.  The heavy, dark streaks seemed to be swarming over his skin.  Melissa McCall immediately noticed the change in her son.  “Scott,” she began.  Realizing nothing had changed, her tone grew grave.  “Let go.”

Scott seemed transfixed.  Isaac’s face was a mask of worry.  “Let go of him,” the Beta said, tugging at his friend’s arm.

Finally doing so, Scott gasped a less-than-reassuring, “I’m okay.”

The nurse explained the scorpion venom, and the boy—Corey, he was finally able to tell them—told them that it was his boyfriend who had done this to him.  It triggered a memory of something that Scott had read in the bestiary.  They learned that Lucas was supposed to meet him at the club, Sinema, later that night.

 

Jackson had stayed back, watching as various guys tried to pick up Liam.  More than his fair share had tried to same with him as well, but each time, he would hold up a hand and dismissively tell them he had a boyfriend.  His harsh tone made it clear that he wasn’t interested in being bothered.  He was, however, mildly amused when some guy—whom Brett identified as Lucas—seemed to be getting past the proverbial walls and making the young Beta seem to lose all interest in the pretty (if bitchy) brunette at the door.

Jackson heard the growling, his heightened senses easily registering the primal vibrato over the electronic din.  He charged into the back after his pack-mate, but he arrived just in time to see Brett toss the smaller boy back, growling at the scorpion-man.  Dimly, Jackson realized that Brett, who had pushed Liam to safety, seemed to have a vested interest in this fight.  If adrenaline wasn’t kicking his smartass nature’s ass, he would have laughed.  Instead, he stepped in front of the pureblood after a stinger slashed open his chest.

This Lucas character was strong.  Jackson’s one saving grace was unmatched arrogance.  He wasn’t the same dick he had once been, but he was just as stubborn.  He refused to be beaten by this… _bug_.  He was holding his own, thankfully, because Liam’s interest was now squarely focused in making sure that Brett was okay.  When Scott and Isaac arrived, he glowered at his boyfriend.  “You’re a little late!”

As the pair of new arrivals engaged in a deadly dance with the constructed nightmare of Sumerian myth, both Alpha and Beta were rebuffed.  The once-Kanima managed to fare better, even going so far as to protect both those he cared about to the point of standing in front of them.  It was because of that hindered vantage-point that none of the werewolves saw that when Jackson knocked Lucas to the ground, his eyes shone a brilliant red.  He raised a claw to deliver a final blow, but Scott stopped him.  The luminance of any color had faded by the time McCall had moved beside him.  Jackson didn’t kill the strange chimera, but the cryptic figures on the catwalk above them had no such qualms.  The words “Condition terminal” hung in the air and in the memory long after they had vanished.

 

Derek rummaged through Tracy’s bedroom.  He had been digging through the lore with the others in hopes of finding the right time to talk to Stiles.  Unfortunately, Scott and Isaac were right there with them.  When Melissa McCall called her son and asked him to come to the hospital, the pureblood thought he had found his chance.  When the former Alpha worked up his courage, the spastic boy had passed out, face-first onto the table, from sheer exhaustion.

Mentally kicking himself for waiting so long, Derek decided to leave.  He needed to do something at least marginally productive.  His proximity to Stiles was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking, which is why he let the sleeping boy lie.  He didn’t want to have a conversation about feelings with the teen only half in possession of his faculties.  Holy Hell.  Had he really just thought “ _a conversation about feelings”_?  He wanted to slice his own throat before he turned into one of those “get in touch with emotions” people.

He was so distracted that he barely noticed the book.  Pulling the Post-It from the cover, he saw the illustration.  It evoked images of the terrifying trio that had so easily dispatched him in the police station.  _The Dread Doctors_.

 

Stiles, having finally awakened, realized he was alone.  He started for his house when his Jeep began spewing steam from beneath the hood.  Pulling over to the side of the road, he muttered a string of profanities as he dug his toolkit—that is, the roll of duct tape—from the glove box.  He was so intent on getting his vehicle running again that he never noticed Donovan’s approach.  The mouth in the psycho’s palm latched onto his shoulder, and he screamed as he felt unimaginable pain….


	8. Some Things You Can't Learn From a Book

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some canon from 5.05 "A Novel Approach" is included, so this chapter contains spoilers. It's all backdrop for a couple of big developments in my story, which begin now.

“Derek, I’m going with you,” Stiles protested.

Derek cocked an eyebrow.  “I thought you said you were sick.”

“Slightly under the weather,” the teen countered.

“You don’t have to come,” the pureblood told him.  He welcomed the thought of his company, but he also knew Eichen House brought up bad memories.

Stiles stubbornly replied with a simple, “Let’s go.” As he was pulling on his jacket, though, he grimaced.  It wasn’t lost on the werewolf.

“What was that?” he immediately asked, the gruff tone barely concealing the concern that laced his voice.

Stiles tried to play dumb.  He was still aching from his strange encounter with Donovan.  “What was what?”

“You winced,” Derek glowered at him.

“I have a bad elbow,” Stiles lied.  He couldn’t tell Derek the truth.  He couldn’t tell him that he had been forced to kill the psychopath in order to survive.

Derek’s face showed he was far from convinced.  “It was your shoulder.”

“Pain radiates.  It does that,” Stiles protested, trying to move past the former Alpha.

Derek stepped into his path.  Stiles was adamant.  “You’re not going without me.  Remember what happened to Deaton when he talked to Valack.”

“Isaac and Jackson are going to be there,” he assured him.

After a few more minutes of arguing, Derek realized just how pointlessly futile it was and relented.

 

As the quartet made their way down the catacombs of the mental hospital, Isaac and Jackson came to abrupt halt.  Derek was able to push past it, but he could feel its effects taking hold in his system.  “You didn’t think you were all going, did you?” Dr. Fenris asked.  He had agreed, as a favor to Deaton, to let them talk to Valack, but he made clear that it was against his better judgment.

“Is this mountain ash?” Jackson asked.

The doctor nodded.  “Whole place is laced with it.” It wasn’t a strict barrier _per se_ , but it was clearly meant to keep the supernatural in.  The two younger werewolves were too sickened by it to proceed.

“Valack’s cell is the last one at the end of the hall,” he told them, swiping his key card.

Derek looked back at his two Betas with a note of concern.  Jackson was the one who waved it off.  “We’ll be right here.”

 

Jackson thought he saw… _something_.  “Did you see that?”

“No, but I see this,” Isaac answered, his voice clearly on the verge of panic.  Isaac had spent so much time among Chris and other Hunters in Europe that he’d begun to traffic in the tools of their trade as often as fang and claw.  The electrified baton had generated some sort of field around him, and he was scared to move.

Jackson’s eyes went wide with fear.  “Whatever you’re doing, please stop,” he pleaded.

“I’m not doing anything,” Isaac protested.  “It’s just happening.”

 

The lights flickered, then surged.  The bulb exploded.  “What’s happening?” Derek demanded.

“One of your friends is carrying something that has reacted with the building’s defenses,” Valack explained.

“What do you mean?” the pureblood growled.  “How?”

Valack continued.  “It’s not just mountain ash that keeps this building secure.  It’s the electromagnetic energy.  Eichen is built on the convergence of telluric currents—ley lines.  It’s what allows it to keep certain supernatural creatures in… and certain others out.”

“They’re here,” he said chillingly.  “You unlocked the door for them.”

 

Isaac had been knocked out cold, though the bulk of the electricity seemed to be emanating outward.  Otherwise, Isaac would no doubt be dead.  When Jackson rushed to his side, the super-charged energy radiating out from him threw the former-Kanima several yards down the hallway.

 _How do I move him if I can’t touch him?_   Jackson turned to see the Dread Doctors killing one of the orderlies.

“I think you’d better run,” Dr. Fenris told Jackson, seeing the strange creatures just beyond the door.

“I can’t leave him,” Jackson fired back without a thought.

“I can,” was the reply, and the man quickly made good on that promise.

Once the Dread Doctors were through the door, Jackson didn’t hesitate.  He scooped up Isaac in his arms, even though the surges had him on the verge of convulsing.  He felt the unbridled pain of the miniature arcs of lightning coursing through his system like he was strapped down to the electric chair.  He could smell his own flesh burning.  But in all of that, his only thoughts were of getting Isaac to safety.

The effort took everything that he had.  He wanted to help Derek and Stiles, but he had to trust that they would be okay.  He could do no more, as much as it, quite literally, pained him.  He kicked open a door and hastened down the hallways towards an exit, each step becoming more labored as his legs threated to buckle… the bones threatening to break from rigors or simply burn to ash.

 

Derek had pulled Stiles into another room.  He had him pulled close against him, Stiles’ back against Derek’s own heaving chest.  In another situation, this might have proved uncomfortably awkward, but as it was, he could think of nothing beyond making sure the boy stayed alive.  They could hear the Dread Doctors as they passed, and Derek’s heart was pounding.  He’d felt their strength—their power.  He knew he couldn’t stop them… he couldn’t protect Stiles from them.  So as much as it ran counter to his nature, he hid, silently praying that the Dread Doctors had no interest in either of them.  His breath hitched in his throat as he heard Valack scream.

 

Finally outside, barely able to breathe through his singed lungs, Jackson set Isaac down.  His eyes flashed red as his wounds began to inexplicably heal, and he closed his lids as a sigh of agony stirred his boyfriend back to consciousness, the electrical field dissipating outside the boundaries of Eichen House.  By the time he was able to release the last of the pain and open his eyes, the glow had faded.  “I love you,” he managed to utter just before Isaac kissed him.

 

Once Derek heard the strange humming and chittering that preceded the Doctors disappear into the distance, he breathed a sigh of relief.  “I think we’re safe,” he said softly to Stiles.  His body, however, made no efforts to release him.

“Um, Derek?” Stiles challenged awkwardly, staring down at the heavily muscled forearm holding him fast.

It took the pureblood a moment to realize what the teen was saying.  Derek let Stiles go like he was on fire.  “Sorry,” he muttered.

Stiles shook his head.  “Don’t be.  I can only guess how bad those guys are after seeing what they did to you at the sheriff’s station.  And in here?  Weakened by the mountain ash?  It’s completely understandable that you….”

The words were cut off as Derek, suddenly driven by nerves, pressed his mouth against Stiles’.  The latter seemed flummoxed, unsure of what to do with his hands—or any part of his body, for that matter.  Derek, once the adrenaline had faded, was already regretting his impulsive decision.  Reluctantly, he pulled away.  Stiles just stared at him incredulously….

… and then walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the feels begin. I'm a bit under the weather, or I would have made this chapter longer. I decided to go ahead and post the part I wrote pre-feeling bad to keep the updates coming fairly frequent.


	9. Turning the Page

**_DEREK_ **

“So he just walked away?” Isaac asked, dumbfounded.

The pureblood meekly nodded.  He wanted to say more—and nothing at all.  He just needed to talk to someone, and these two were the closest thing he had to “experts”, and that wasn’t saying much.  They were two werewolves in a relationship.  He needed someone in a werewolf-human relationship, but given that the two examples he knew personally involved a MIA were-coyote or a dead Hunter, his options were rather limited.

Jackson’s reaction was, well, _different_.  “What did you expect, Derek?”

Derek was flabbergasted, his jaw went slack and fell open.  Isaac looked like he had murder in his eyes.  “What did you say?”

“Don’t get defensive with me,” the former Kanima glared at his boyfriend.  “I know you're as big of a pack puppy dog as McCall, but Derek doesn’t need your protection, least of all from me.”

Isaac started to say something to protest, but the former Alpha held up a hand to stop him.  “As much as I hate to admit it, part of me came here to feel better, but the main reason I came to you two is advice.  If there’s one thing that doesn’t seem to have changed much about Jackson, it's his willingness to give his opinion.  I want his honesty, frank and brutal as it may be.”

Jackson seemed a little defeated.  “I’m not trying to be a dick here, Derek.  I’m really not,” he offered.  “I guess old habits die hard and it came out a little—or a lot—harsher than I meant for it to.”

“What were you trying to say, babe?” Isaac asked, his own knee-jerk reaction softening.

“I’m just saying that even if you just had this epiphany about how you feel about Stiles, this has been a long, drawn-out process.  Contrary to public opinion, it isn’t always love at first sight,” he began.  “I pretty much got a hard-on for Isaac right after you turned him, but I didn’t figure out I was in love with him for several _years_ later.”

Isaac blushed.  He was embarrassed by just how blunt his boyfriend was being, but he actually understood the sentiment.  He actually shared it.  “I get where he’s coming from,” he echoed.  “Like pretty much everyone else our age in Beacon Hills, I was sexually attracted to Jackson from pretty much puberty.  Love didn’t come until much later… when I realized what was behind the pretty face.”

Jackson smiled and pulled his boyfriend close for a kiss.  Derek groaned.  “Can we focus, please?” he growled.

“You moved too fast,” Isaac smiled, pulling away from his boyfriend with his eyelids half-shut in a lazy, dream-like state.

“I got that,” Derek rumbled.  “What do I do now?”

It was Jackson’s turn to be the sympathetic one.  “Now you do what you should have done _before_ the kiss—you talk to him,” he smiled.  “You tell him how you feel and see if he feels the same.”

Derek didn’t do or say anything for a few moments.  Finally, he nodded, conceding in the wisdom of his former Betas.  Lest anyone think the old Jackson was completely gone, though, he did add, “Maybe this time, you can try something that would be called a kiss, rather than assault.”

 

**_STILES_ **

“He _kissed_ me!” Stiles said, in his usual, spastic way.

Scott just smiled.  “You said that already.”

“Then say something!”

“You haven’t given me a chance,” Scott told him gently.

Stiles started to argue, but he realized his friend was right.  “Fine.  Give me some sage advice, Obi-Wan.”

“I don’t have any,” Scott smiled.

In an almost slapstick, comical way, Stiles seemed at a loss for words—something that was all-too-rare for the teen.  “What do you mean _you don’t have any_?”

Scott shrugged.  “I mean I don’t have any.  Derek has always been my werewolf Obi-Wan, Deaton has always been my everything-else-supernatural Obi-Wan, and you’re kind of my everything-else Obi-Wan.  I’m the one that generally comes to you with relationship problems, remember?”

“Hmph,” Stiles said indignantly.  It was hard to be given a compliment and still want to argue it at the same time, but those were exactly the two conflicting emotions playing tug-of-war in his brain right now.  “I’m hardly an expert.  The years of unrequited pining over Lydia and Malia up-and-leaving because she’s pouting over not getting to be a senior doesn’t give me a lot in the qualifications department.  At least your girlfriend didn’t want to leave you.”

Stiles meant Kira, of course.  Scott wondered if the omission of Allison had been by accident or design.  It had been long enough now that he was able to think and talk about her fondly, without the dull, aching pain of her loss.  It was understandable enough, though, given that even before her death, she had been with Isaac.  The True Alpha and the Huntress had been one another’s first great love, however, and when she left this world, it was his arms that held her close.  Even now, he acknowledged that Isaac was a better man than him for giving them that without any obvious jealous displays.  “Malia left to find her mother.  Being held back just cemented her timing,” Scott assured him.  “It had nothing to do with you.”

“Shouldn’t it have, though?” Stiles demanded.

Scott shrugged.  “Maybe, but you know Malia’s more of a doer than a thinker.  Emotional responses are kind of her thing—not yours—which begs the question of _why_ are you asking me for relationship advice.  Normally, you’re about a dozen steps ahead of me about everything.  If you need someone smarter than you, I would suggest Lydia.”

“He _kissed_ me!”

Scott was finding it hard not to outright laugh now.  “And that’s number three.”

“I know, I know, I’m repeating myself,” Stiles sighed.  “But when did this happen?  Where is this coming from?”

Scott held up his hands defensively.  “I’d say when was while you two were at the bottom of Eichen House.  As for where this is coming from?  Don’t ask me.  I’d never even noticed until the other day.”

Stiles could have been knocked over by a feather.  “You _knew_?” he almost hissed.

“Suspected is more like it.  It was just a hunch… a strong hunch,” Scott grinned.  “I was going to ask him the next time I had the chance.”

Stiles threw his hands up into the air.  “And you wonder why I’m coming to you with this?  Apparently, you are a lot more perceptive than I am.  Werewolf senses are kind of useful for that sort of thing.”

“Werewolf senses help, sure,” Scott admitted.  “I can tell Derek’s heartbeat speeds up when you’re around.  He makes a conscious effort to slow his breathing, too.”

Stiles looked like he was ready to pounce on his best friend.  “And you didn’t think you needed to _tell_ me this?”

“I figured you were just annoying him.  It has pretty much the same effect,” Scott shrugged.  “Or it used to.  Come to think of it, I haven’t really noticed him doing that around you in a few years now.”

Stiles’ eyes grew wide.  “And you didn’t think that was _noteworthy_?  Have Isaac and Jackson noticed this, too?”

Scott just shrugged again.  “I don’t know.  Werewolf senses come with a down side.  You get so used to the sensory overload that you tend to ignore half of it.   I don’t know that I realized it ever stopped until just now.”

The door to Scott’s bedroom opened and Melissa McCall walked in with a laundry basket.  “You boys do realize you’re yelling, right?” she asked, picking up a few articles of dirty clothing lying on the end of the bed.

“Technically, it’s just Stiles yelling,” Scott smiled at his mother.

Melissa paused and looked at Stiles.  “So what’s got your underwear in a twist?”

Scott almost rolled off the bed with laughter.

“It’s nothing, Mrs. McCall,” Stiles lied, his face flushing with embarrassment.

Scott was struggling to breathe, though from amusement rather than the asthma that had plagued him before Peter bit him.  “It’s nothing, Mom,” he told her, reinforcing his friend’s statement.

Her eyes moved from her son to Stiles and back again.  “Why don’t I believe you?” she asked.  “Either of you?”

“It’s just relationship stuff,” Scott tried to salvage, offering just enough to hopefully halt the line of questioning.

She stopped and set the basket on the floor and took a seat.  Stiles looked as though he would die of mortification at any moment.  “Are you and Malia having problems?  I thought you guys had broken up?”

Stiles shook his head.  “It’s not Malia, Mrs. McCall.  She and I haven’t even spoken since she left town.”

“Then what’s her name?  Do I know her?” the pack’s surrogate mother asked.

Both boys averted their eyes to the floor.  The uncomfortable silence told her far more than their words would have.  “Do I know _him_?”

Scott opened his mouth to speak, but he wasn’t sure what to say.  Stiles’ fidgeting increased.  Melissa smiled.  “So I _do_ know him.”

The Alpha finally relented and found a sound to go with the dizzying thoughts in his head.  “Well, Mom, someone kind of… _kissed_ Stiles.”

“SCOTT!” Stiles yelled.

“Was it Derek?” she asked matter-of-factly.  Both of their jaws dropped.  She smiled more broadly, the resemblance between herself and her son never more evident than in their shared facial expressions.

Scott finally stopped smiling long enough to ask the burning question.  “How did you know?”

She shrugged, leaning over to grab the basket again.  “Love’s easy to spot if you know what to look for.” She stood and started for the door.  “Good for him.  Glad he finally found the balls to act on it.”

“MOM!” Scott shouted, embarrassed.

She dismissively ignored her son’s discomfort.  “What about you, Stiles?  What do have to say about all this?”

“I don’t have the foggiest clue what to say,” he admitted.  “I got kissed… out of the blue… by a guy that used to threaten to kill me.  Now you’re telling me he’s in _love_ with me?”

She nodded.  “To be fair, though.  I don’t think he realized it until just recently.  Your father and I have the advantage of being outsiders.”

“MY FATHER?” Stiles asked, voice raised as all the blood drained from his face.  “My father knows?”

“That he kissed you?  Probably not,” she consoled him.  “That he’s in love with you?  Yes.”

Stiles just shook his head.  “How?”

“Like I said, love’s easy to spot if you know what to look for,” she repeated.

Scott silently observed the exchange with a bemused smirk.

“So how long has Derek…?” he stammered.

Melissa raised one eyebrow.  “Been in love with you?”

Stiles could barely manage a nod.

“I’m not sure exactly,” she admitted.  “Quite a while now, though.  Pretty much when he stopped threatening to kill you—or at least when he stopped meaning it.”

Both boys went quiet, so she was about to leave.  Just before she did, though, she looked at the confused teen.  “There’s one question important question I haven’t heard either one of you ask or answer.”

“What’s that?” Scott asked.

Her eyes weren’t on her son, but his friend.  “How do you feel about him?”


	10. Revelations and Realizations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Still not feeling back to normal yet, but Teen Wolf always makes me feel better :) As always, any feedback is appreciated.

**_STILES_ **

“Well?” Scott asked. His mother had finally left the two boys alone, but she left a lingering question that still begged an answer.

Stile was distracted, but Scott’s voice broke him from his reverie. “Well _what_?”

Scott’s glare was one of disapproval. “What do you think I’m talking about? How do you feel about Derek?”

“He scares the shit out of me,” Stiles said honestly.

“He scares the shit out of most everyone,” Scott smirked. “But that’s not what I’m asking. First of all, do you really think Derek would actually hurt you?”

Stiles thought about it for a moment, though the answer had come to him instantly. His silence was his surprise at just _how_ quickly it had come to him. “No. I mean, he’s a Sourwolf and all, and I used to think he would kill me but….”

“But you haven’t really believed that for a long time now,” Scott interrupted, finishing the thought. “When you were possessed, he never once advocated killing you. If you playing host to an immortal, murderous spirit of the Void didn’t prompt that thought, I think it’s safe to assume that he doesn’t actually want you dead.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. The sarcastic defense was automatic, but his best friend’s words were giving him pause. Just when had his and Derek’s dynamic changed? The former Alpha clearly recognized that it _had_ changed, but it came as a surprise to the teen. Somehow, he didn’t think it should have. “I’m not sure not wanting me dead is enough to build a lasting relationship.”

“Relationship, huh?” Scott smiled. “You’re not dismissing the prospect out of hand. What does that say?”

Stiles cut a hard sideways glance at the Alpha. “It says that I’m being my usual, analytical self. I’m asking questions, like am I interested in being in a relationship with any guy? My Dad said it himself outside Jungle—I’m not gay.”

“I think you’re getting hung up on labels,” Scott told him. “Because I’m not entirely sure your Dad was right.”

Stiles face was a mask of twisted confusion. “What do you mean? I’ve loved Lydia since we were kids. Then Malia…”

“I didn’t say you weren’t in love with them,” Scott was quick to interject, holding up his hands to yield before Stiles grew defensive. “I’m saying that some of the questions you used to ask Danny make me think you’re not as far on one side of the Kinsey scale as you seem to think you are.”

Stiles glared at him. “Have I mentioned how much I hate the smarter you? Sometimes I miss the girl-crazy asthmatic who barely cracked a book.”

Scott smiled. “It was a bit simpler then, but think how Derek feels?”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked, genuinely unsure what he meant.

“Think about his relationships,” Scott explained. “Paige. Kate. Jennifer. Braeden. All this has got to be new for him, too, so try not to judge him too harshly.”

Stiles glowered. “Whose side are you on?”

“Yours,” Scott answered, “but his, too. Derek’s, well, _Derek_ , but he’s still a friend.”

Stiles pouted. He wanted to find fault with Scott’s logic, but he couldn’t. He hadn’t really ever been attracted to a guy, but to his knowledge, neither had Derek. On some insecure, teenaged level, he wasn’t even sure what someone like Derek would see in him. If he wanted to be with another guy, there were certainly prospects that seemed like a better fit than himself. Jackson. Brett. Hell, any number of guys.

“I see the gears turning in there,” Scott mused. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Stiles lied, knowing full well that the Alpha would see through the deception but trusting that their friendship would keep him from forcing the issue.

Scott’s face told him that he knew he wasn’t telling the truth, but true to form, his best friend ignored it. “Okay, so let’s start with this. I’m not going to ask if you’ve ever thought about being with a guy, because I think we all have at one point or another, but I will ask if you’re opposed to the idea of it actually happening.”

Stiles was uncharacteristically silent. He was obviously pensive. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders. “I haven’t given it any real thought, but I suppose not.”

Scott nodded. “And do you think Derek’s attractive?”

“Even a 100% straight guy would have to answer that with a _duh_ ,” Stiles groaned.

Scott smiled. “You didn’t have to think about that long.”

Stiles huffed. “Have you _seen_ him? The guy’s muscles have muscles, he runs around with no shirt, and since he went all four-legged, he’s started missing pants, too.”

Scott’s smile broadened.

“What?” Stiles demanded.

“Your heartrate spiked when you thought about Derek naked,” Scott answered.

“I’m a teenager. I’m horny all the time. The thought of anyone naked would make my heartrate spike,” Stiles countered.

Scott’s eyebrow raised. “What about me naked?”

“Eww, gross!” Stiles immediately shot back.

“So it’s not random. That was a Derek-specific reaction,” Scott pointed out.

Stiles shook his head. “Not the same. You’re like my brother. Not a valid comparison.”

“What about Jackson, then?” Scott posed. “Or Isaac?”

“Yeah, they’re both attractive,” Stiles was loathe to admit.

Scott shook his head again. “Your heartrate didn’t jump near as much. It did go up, I’ll admit, but I think there’s definitely a difference.”

“Okay, so he’s hot,” Stiles relented. “That doesn’t mean I want him randomly kissing me.”

“Speaking of which,” Scott began, “how was the kiss?”

Stiles didn’t say anything. He just shifted uncomfortably.

Scott smiled. “That good, huh?”

Stiles’ face flushed crimson, telling the Alpha everything he needed to know.

“Okay, so you’re open to the idea of a relationship with a guy. There’s a guy with the hots for you. Based on your heartbeat, he’s pretty much an eleven on a scale of one to ten. _And_ he’s a great kisser? Am I missing something here?” Scott asked.

Stiles grabbed his hoodie. “I’m going to go to the station to see my Dad.”

“See you later,” Scott smiled, leaning back on his bed.

 

**_DEREK_ **

“I’ve faced down Alphas. Certain death didn’t even give me pause. Why am I having such a hard time with this?” the former Alpha asked.

Isaac just smiled at him. “Because you care about him. You might have some suicidal death wish that makes you want to play the martyr all the time, but in this? You’re actually afraid, perhaps for the first time in your life.”

Derek glowered at his former Beta. “I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like the uncertainty,” Jackson corrected. “You’re putting your heart out there, and there’s nothing you can do but see how he feels. You can’t growl, intimidate, or brow-beat the result you want out of Stiles. You’re not in control here. That’s the thing about love… you can’t control how you feel about it anymore than you can control who you’re attracted to.”

Derek cut his eyes towards his other former Beta. “I think I miss snarky Jackson.”

Jackson grinned. “I’m still here, but you’re not getting out of this that easily. You and feelings might be complete strangers, but you better get acquainted before you talk to Stiles. Let’s not forget, that’s what you need to do.”

“Did that really work for you two? Honesty and all that?” Derek asked, genuinely curious.

“Sort of,” Jackson nodded. “But I was stubborn and refused to admit my feelings for him for a long time. I had to be honest with myself.”

Isaac cut in. “And I just had to keep aggravating him, tearing down those walls until he realized what was really frustrating him.”

“Sound like anyone else we know?” Jackson smiled. “Isaac was my Stiles. The difference is he knew how he felt about me.”

“Horny as a fucking toad,” Isaac chuckled.

Jackson roll his eyes. “Funny, babe, but Derek’s asking for help here. Let’s save that discussion for later.”

Isaac nodded and smiled. “I’ll hold you to that… and a lot more, but Jackson’s only half-right. I knew I was attracted to him, but it was when I saw the way he looked at me once he figured it out that all my doubts and insecurities were gone. I realized just how much I loved him. Stiles needs to see that look in your eyes—the one we saw when you were watching him the night we got back to town. I’ve seen that look before… I see it every day when I wake up. You’re Stiles’ Jackson.”

“It goes both ways,” Jackson explained. “When Stiles looks at you—I mean _really_ looks at you, you’ll know. It’s a look that makes you feel like you’re never alone, but at the same time, you’re strong enough to take on the weight of the world.”

Derek just stared at the pair in disbelief. Isaac was so self-assured now, even more than he had become before he left. Jackson was so… _not_ the Jackson of old. When the latter’s words prompted the former to lean in for a kiss, the former Alpha found himself not annoyed, but hopeful. When it didn’t appear that they would be stopping anytime soon, he cleared his throat.

“Sorry,” they said in unison, a sickeningly sweet gesture that made Derek smile in spite of himself.

“So any suggestions as to where to look for him?” he asked. “I need to find him quickly, before I lose my nerve.”

Isaac squeezed Jackson’s hand gently. It was almost imperceptibly subtle, but the smile it brought to Jackson’s face wasn’t. “You kissed him,” Isaac reminded him, “so by now, he’s probably freaking out.”

“Stilinski _always_ freaks out, so don’t take it as a bad sign,” Jackson interjected, “but when he does, there’s only one person that can calm him down.”

Derek nodded. Lydia had once gotten Stiles out of a panic attack, but he knew who they meant… Scott.

 

**_STILES_ **

When Stiles got to the station, he found that his father was out on a call. He let out an exasperated sigh when he caught a glimpse of Parrish in the break room. He went inside to where the Deputy, in his plain clothes, was absentmindedly nibbling on a sandwich and staring up at the television.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asked him. “I thought Dad said he still had you on leave.”

Jordan nodded, dabbing at his mouth with the napkin. “Officially, I’m here doing the paperwork I finished yesterday, since we can’t really tell everyone that there’s not a mark on me after getting stabbed in the gut. Guess that’s the downside to invulnerability or whatever it is,” he smiled. “Unofficially, I’m trying to find something to watch, but the only thing that comes in is this kung fu movie.”

Stiles turned to look at the screen. Seeing the men hit each other, he flashed back to his confrontation with Donovan at the school. He was alone and helpless, a feeling that he didn’t want to revisit. When the Deputy saw him staring at the screen, he cocked an eyebrow. “You like kung fu movies?”

“Do you know how to do that?” Stiles asked, almost oblivious to the question.

Parrish nodded. “I know a little jiu-jitsu. In the army they taught us CQC—close-quarters combat.”

“Can you teach me?” Stiles asked, turned his attention from the TV back to the other man.

Jordan was a little surprised. His and Stiles’ interactions had been rather limited, even once he found out he was on the dead pool list. That he asked him shouldn’t have come as such a surprise, though. He was the lone mortal in a pack of supernatural creatures with fighting abilities that weren’t an option. “You want to learn jiu-jitsu? Hand-to-hand?”

“I want to learn how to fight. Can you teach me?” Stiles repeated.

The Deputy nodded. “Yeah. I can teach you.”

 

**_DEREK_ **

Derek had sped to Scott’s house as quickly as the Camaro could carry him, thankful that he knew the Sheriff in case he was stopped for the excessive ticket it would otherwise surely net him. As soon as that thought hit him, he was tempted to slam on the brakes. _The Sheriff_. What would the elder Stilinski have to say about all of this? He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought about it.

As much as he might have been tempted to stop or turn around, he didn’t. He wasn’t sure exactly why. His nerves were making his hands almost shake. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel to compensate for this, and the resultant white knuckles threatened to tear it from the dashboard. The only thing that he was sure of was that he had to get to Stiles. He had to try to make him understand or hear him tell him that it wasn’t in the cards for them. After seeing Jackson and Isaac together, he was silently praying even more fervently that Stiles felt the same.

When he got to Scott’s, the True Alpha was already standing outside waiting on him. “I had a feeling you’d be along soon,” he stated flatly.

“So you just thought you’d stand here all day waiting?” Derek growled, growing increasingly irritated that apparently everyone was more clued into the connection between himself and Stiles than himself and Stiles.

Scott shook his head. “Heard the engine when you were still a few blocks away. It’s got a distinct sound.”

Derek shut the car door he’d been standing behind, almost shielding himself. “Stiles here?”

Scott shook his head again. “Just left a few minutes ago for the police station. Think he went to talk to his Dad. He’s got a lot on his mind.”

“His Dad?” Derek asked, certain that all the color was draining from his face. “Did he…?”

“Tell me about the kiss?” Scott asked. “Yeah.”

Derek was suddenly feeling like the child in a relationship, or a suitor asking for a father’s blessing. His palms were simultaneously clammy and sweating. Scott was years his junior, but the Alpha was Stiles’ best friend.

“Relax,” Scott smiled. “If you’re wondering what I think about you two, I’m rooting for you. You and Stiles are good for one another.”

Derek exhaled, instantly aware of just how _un_ aware he was that he was holding his breath. “I’m not sure Stiles feels the same.”

Scott shook his head. “You surprised him, that’s all. Stiles doesn’t know what he’s feeling, but I can tell you, he has feelings for you—and they’re strong. I know him better than anyone, and no one but you could rattle him like this. As spastic as he comes across, he’s a lot more in control than he appears—much more so than most of us. With you, though, he’s anything but. I’ve been there through all the years with Lydia and Malia, but he was never like this with them. He _loves_ you, Derek, even if he hasn’t quite figured that out yet.”

Hearing that reassured Derek in a way that was hard to describe. It both set him at ease and made his heart feel like it was going to beat out of his chest. “I need to talk to him. I need to do this right. Was he headed to the station?”

“Yeah,” Scott nodded. “And for the record, according to my mother, Sheriff Stilinski already knows. The fact that you don’t have a silver bullet in you is a pretty clear indicator how he feels on the matter.”

So Mrs. McCall and Sheriff Stilinski both knew it, too? Derek was starting to feel like the most clueless person on the planet. He offered the younger werewolf a nod of thanks before climbing back into his car and pulling out of the driveway.

 

**_STILES_ **

Parrish punched lightly at Stiles, who deflected it with a grunt. The teen tried to bring a knee up to the older man’s midsection, but he batted it away.

“Arms up,” Jordan said. “This way you can block attacks to your face and your head while always keeping your eyes on your enemy.”

Stiles nodded. “Ready?” the Deputy asked. Stiles nodded again.

Parrish punched at Stiles again, but the boy was able to cast it aside more easily. A repeat to the other side met with the same result, and Jordan brought a knee up. Stiles swung his arm down to block, but it opened him up to a swat to the face.

“It’s alright,” Parrish assured him. “You’re not going to be perfect after only a few tries.”

Stiles clenched his jaw, frustrated with himself. “Okay,” he said, turned to move back into position. “Keep going.”

“You sure?” Jordan asked. “Maybe we should stop after a few.”

“I’m fine,” Stiles protested.

Parrish smiled. “I see the way you cringe when you use that shoulder. I don’t want you hurting anything more than it already is.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. Inside, he was cursing at how observant the Deputy was. “It’s fine.” He pulled down the collar of his shirt enough to show the front of his shoulder, carefully keeping the angle such that the other man couldn’t see the bite mark that was still healing on the back. “See? No problem.”

When Jordan didn’t seem convinced, Stiles pulled off the hoodie and threw it on the couch. There was no active bleeding, and his T-shirt was dark enough that the scabs and discoloration weren’t apparent. Thankfully, Jordan didn’t have a heightened sense of smell or hearing to smell the dried blood or hear the heartrate elevation that accompanied the lie.

Relenting, Parrish pulled off his own jacket, and Stiles was finding it hard not to stare. The Deputy’s arms were usually concealed by the fabric of his uniform, but seeing his bare shoulders, the younger man could the definition of Jordan’s muscles, which were far bigger and more developed than Stiles would have guessed. _Damn it_ , Stiles scolded himself. Ever since Scott and he had talked, he kept asking himself if was attracted to Derek. Well, Jordan wasn’t Derek, but he definitely had the same gender, which was clouding the teen’s thoughts.

“Ready when you are,” Stiles lied… again.

Parrish circled around him slowly. Stiles matched his movements. When Jordan swung at him, Stiles batted it away. Other side? Same thing. When the Deputy went for an abdominal strike, Stiles was able to circle his arm in an effort to reverse the attack and lock the limb. Parrish, however, was able to evade the grab, and in his frustration, Stiles took a clumsy swing that threw him off-balance. He toppled against Jordan who had him locked with his own arm and the Deputy’s arm around his wrist. The pain shot through his shoulder and radiated through his arm, causing him to wince.

“What did you do wrong?” Parrish asked calmly.

Stiles groaned. “I forgot to keep my arms up.”

“Right,” Jordan nodded. “But don’t worry, your muscles have memory. With enough practice, they’ll remember for you.”

Exhausted, Stiles lilted his head back against Jordan’s shoulder. He could hear the Deputy’s steady heartbeat. He could feel the breath against his ear and cheek. He could feel the surprisingly defined pecs pressing against his back, and a flaccid, but no less impressive, member pressing against his ass cheeks through the other man’s sweatpants. It was causing a stirring in his own member that was rapidly becoming anything _but_ flaccid.

His mind hearkened back to a time that he had long blocked out of his thoughts. It was a time when the proximity of another man was having the same effect. Even in the dire circumstances, he remembered the feeling of his arm wrapped around Derek’s chest. The Alpha, paralyzed from Kanima venom, would drown without Stiles to keep him afloat. Even amidst the protestations and threats of violence, there was only one thought—okay, _two_ —that were coursing through Stiles’ head, overriding his own survival instincts. First, that he had to keep Derek alive, no matter what. It had nothing to do with the werewolf being their best chance against the creature trying to kill them. It was a primal motivation that defied logic—Derek had to live, even if Stiles, himself, died. Second, he was glad the pureblood was paralyzed and couldn’t feel the highly inopportune erection he was causing.

_Holy shit!_ He thought to himself. _I think I’m in love with Derek Hale_. As an afterthought, he also realized what Parrish’s body was doing to him as well. He groaned and pulled, albeit reluctantly, away, keeping his back to Jordan.

“What’s wrong?” the Deputy asked, the concern in his smooth voice making Stiles’ even more uncomfortable. “What is it?”

Taking a calming breath, he thought about every non-arousing thing he could, trying to get his mind on anything but Derek or Jordan, which was proving difficult. Turning his mind to Isaac and Jackson was nearly his undoing. Not only were the pair stupidly attractive, but then he thought about things they did _together_ … which led to him thinking about doing those things with Derek or Jordan, or Derek _and_ Jordan, or the two men doing them with each other. _Cold showers… dead puppies… grandma smells_. “Muscle memory,” he finally managed.

Parrish was glad for abrupt separation. It gave him the opportunity to shift. Thankfully, Stiles seemed distracted and apparently hadn’t noticed the burgeoning movement their closeness had caused. _I really need to get laid soon_ , Jordan chastised himself. He wasn’t even sure what was eliciting that response, as he’d never had any such thoughts about Stiles, but he could think of a multitude of reasons why he shouldn’t be having those thoughts now. The young man was underage, the son of his boss, and the object of affection for the man he, himself, had feelings for. Any one of them should be enough to put a kybosh on the stimulation having any effect. What finally did it, though, was seeing how rattled the teen was. “Stiles, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

The Deputy shook his head. “No, you’re not, and I don’t need to be a werewolf to tell that you know it.”

Stiles found himself cursing Parrish’s perceptiveness once again. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“School’s barely a concern for you. If it were the Dread Doctors, you’d be talking non-stop about whatever theory you were working on or whatever information you’ve found,” Jordan noted. “Your reluctance to talk about it makes me think it’s something personal—probably a relationship?”

Hesitantly, Stiles nodded. It was as useless to lie to the Deputy as it was to one of the werewolves. “Kind of… maybe… I don’t know.”

Parrish knew the answer but asked anyway. “Derek?”

Stiles was flummoxed. How did everyone know but him? “How?” he managed to stammer aloud.

“Because I’ve seen him when he’s around you… when he’s talking about you… when he’s thinking about you,” Jordan replied.

Stiles, against his usual nature, stood perfectly still and silent. Finally, he spoke. “I don’t know what to do.”

The Deputy smiled softly. “Yes, you do. I’ve seen you when you’re around him… when you’re talking about him… when you’re thinking about him. You’re in love with him, just like he’s in love with you.”

“What should I do?” Stiles asked, genuinely seeking guidance in these uncharted waters.

“Go to him. Be with him,” Parrish told him without hesitation. “Derek’s a good man who’s been through a lot of bad. You’ll make him happy, and he deserves it. You both deserve to be happy together. I want you both to have a happiness most of us can only dream about.”

Stiles could feel the pain in the poignant words. Part of him wanted to walk over to Jordan and comfort him, but another part wanted to heed his advice and run to Derek. He opened his mouth to speak but could find no words that didn’t feel hollow. Here was a man who was wishing them all the best… when he clearly had feelings for Derek, Stiles just realized. He wanted to thank him, but that felt like a dagger to the heart. He simply nodded in gratitude and left.

 

**_DEREK_ **

Derek had arrived at the station just after the pair had left. The female deputy whose name Derek couldn’t remember had told him where to find the pair (at Parrish’s place). He was just about to join them and make some grand gesture while he professed his love to Stiles, but hearing Jordan’s words tugged at him. The Deputy’s earlier words now echoed inside his ears: “Because I know what it’s like to have feelings for someone who doesn’t have a clue.”

The former Alpha had no idea that Parrish was talking about him. It stunned him so that Stiles had made it to his jeep and drove away before he got close enough (sometimes being able to hear conversations so far away wasn’t necessarily an advantage). Even though every fiber of his being screamed to chase after Stiles, he couldn’t just leave this man who was clearly in pain—pain that Derek had inadvertently caused. The fact that he was so damned genuinely _good_ didn’t help. He was so much like Scott in that way that the pureblood would hate to bet his life on the difference if it ever came down to a contest between the two.

While the Deputy was turning to pick up his jacket, Derek walked in, trying very hard to ignore the thighs and sculpted ass that were pointed in his direction. He was suddenly all-too-aware of why his younger self had been so drawn to Jordan. That complicated an already complicated situation, but it didn’t change how he felt about Stiles. “We need to talk,” he said to Parrish who had just noted his arrival.


	11. Mixed Signals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains Spoilers of Episode 5.07 "Strange Frequencies"

Jordan looked surprised to see Derek. After the momentary shock had worn off, though, he just shook his head. “No, we don’t.” The deputy pulled on his jacket and moved past the werewolf.

Derek, however, grabbed his arm and spun him around to face him. “I know,” he said simply.

“I assumed as much, based on your behavior,” Parrish told him, “but it doesn’t matter. It’s not important.”

Derek stared at him incredulously. “How can you possibly say that?”

Jordan jerked his arm away. “Because you’re with Stiles, or you’re about to be.”

“What about you?” Derek asked, a pained sympathy evident upon his face.

“What about me?” Parrish fired back.

Derek didn’t need preternatural senses to notice the growing irritation in the other man. “You have feelings for me.”

“I thought I did,” Jordan nodded, “but you’re supposed to be with him. Someone would have to be blind not to see it. I can’t compete with that, and I don’t want to. It was just an infatuation I had with you. Besides, what kind of selfish dick would I be to come between you?”

Derek narrowed his gaze. “So it’s nothing more than that?”

“No,” Parrish lied, instantly regretting it. He could see it in the werewolf’s face. His heart, fittingly, had betrayed him.

The former Alpha was conflicted. He wanted to go to Stiles— _needed_ to go to Stiles. But something just couldn’t let him leave him leave the deputy like this. The problem was, he couldn’t find a single thing to say. There were no words. And since his words had failed him, he went with the first impulse that struck him: he grabbed Jordan, pulled him close, and _kissed him_.

Parrish initially resisted, trying to pull away. After a moment, though, he settled into the embrace. The veritable fireworks were going off in the minds of both men. Their connection and arousal were immediately evident.

When their lips finally parted, neither immediately opened their eyes. Once they did, Jordan just stared into the pureblood’s eyes. Derek uncharacteristically smiled. It was a soft, gentle gesture. “Now what?” he asked Parrish.

The deputy pulled away. “Now you go to Stiles, like you were always meant to,” he told him without hesitation, with the same light-filled expression he seemed to wear most of the time. Then he turned and left, leaving the werewolf alone.

 

“Mom?” Stiles asked incredulously. “Mom, what are you doing?”

He doesn’t understand any of this. This was a memory, but it was happening now. And when did his father come up to the hospital roof? “Claudia. What are you doing up there?” the Sheriff asked.

“I couldn’t stand to be in that room anymore,” she answered. “Not with him looking at me like that.”

Sheriff Stilinski just stared at her with a pained expression. “Claudia….”

“He’s trying to hurt me. I don’t care if you believe me, but he is,” she cried, ignoring his protests. “He’s trying to kill me.”

Stiles was paralyzed. He couldn’t find the words.

“No,” his father told her. “That’s not true. Come on down.”

She whimpered.

“Come here,” the Sheriff pleaded over her animalistic grunts. “You have to remind yourself it’s the disease. Remember what dementia does—it gives you delusions. It makes you think that people are out to get you.”

She shook her head. “You don’t see the way he looks at me.”

“Claudia, he’s ten years old.”

“He’s trying to kill me,” she sobbed. She started staring directly at Stiles. “Stop it. Stop looking at me like that. Stop it! Stop looking at me!”

Tears filled Stiles’ eyes. “Mom… what are you do… Mom!”

As he tried to defend himself against his mother’s assault, the memory faded. He realized he was being attacked by one of the chimeras—and there was nothing he could do about it. Every fiber of his being told him that he was about to die….

… Until Jackson yanked the monstrous teen off of him. It turned its aggression towards the werewolf, seemingly with the upper hand. It was a fleeting advantage, though, and Stiles saw why. Jackson’s eyes were glowing… _RED!_

The chimera charged at Jackson, who sidestepped the attack. The mutant impacted the generator, and the waves of electricity made short work of the creature. The spastic, burning corpse finally toppled to the ground. Stiles didn’t even notice. He just kept staring at the werewolf.

Jackson’s chest was heaving from the adrenaline. He finally caught Stiles looking at him. “What is it?” he asked.

“Your eyes…,” Stiles managed before his voice trailed off.

It was an involuntary reflex that prompted Jackson to shift back to normal. It was a knee-jerk response because he assumed the other boy was talking about their blue glow. He supposed it was to be expected, as he’d only seen Jackson transform once before leaving for London and once since returning. “Yeah, they’re blue. I’m aware,” Jackson spat sarcastically.

“No,” Stiles shook his head. “I mean yeah, but not like that.”

“Stilinski, what are you babbling about?” Jackson asked.

Stiles found himself, once again, reaching for words. “Just now, when you were wolfed out, they weren’t blue.”

“They were gold?” Jackson asked, a hint of hope evident on his face.

Stiles shook his head, and instantly, he felt crushed by the obvious disappointment. “No, Jackson, you don’t get it,” he explained. “They were red.”

Jackson shook his head. “It must have been a trick of the light.”

“Jackson, your eyes glow,” Stiles protested. “I know what I saw.”

“Stiles, that’s not possible. I haven’t exactly killed an Alpha lately,” Jackson almost laughed.

Stiles shook his head. “There’s another way to become an Alpha.”

Jackson stared at him incredulously. “A _True_ Alpha? Have you lost your mind? Have you _met_ me? I’m not Scott.”

“No,” Stiles admitted, “but you’re not Jackson Whittemore anymore, either. At least not the one I used to want to punch in the face on a daily basis.”

Now it was Jackson’s turn to be stunned into silence. Finally, he smiled. “Have you met me, Stilinski? I don’t care about anyone but myself. I’m a dick. I’m a self-absorbed egomaniac. I’m a ….”

“Murderer,” Stiles interrupted. It shut Jackson up instantly. “That’s what you want to say, isn’t it?”

Jackson couldn’t even look him in the eye. He simply nodded.

“None of that is true. Most of it never was,” Stiles sympathetically half-smiled. “Okay, so a lot of it used to be, but not that.”

Stiles was about to continue, but then they heard a siren wailing. Jackson raised an eyebrow. “That’s not an ambulance, is it?”

 

Parrish was sitting in the car alone outside the school. Scott, Derek, and Isaac were inside, while Stiles and Jackson were keeping watch outside the animal clinic for whomever was taking the bodies. He idly wished the Dread Doctors and all the rest of the weirdness of this town would stay quiet, just for the night. Derek needed to tell Stiles how he felt. Parrish needed Derek to tell him, so that the two of them would get together, Jordan could see how happy they were, and he could move on.

… At least he thought he was alone. He looked over into the passenger seat to see Derek sitting there. Was it just a dream? Some hallucination caused by the kiss earlier? When Derek placed a hand upon his neck, he no longer cared. He wanted this moment, and the former Alpha wanted him. The pureblood pulled Jordan’s shirt over his head, and desperately grasping for Derek, Parrish ripped the other man’s shirt from his chest. They kissed with unparalleled desire until something felt… _wrong_. The bliss faded, and he opened his eyes to see the burned husk of Derek Hale.

 

“What happens now?” Jackson asked.

Stiles shrugged. “We wait.”

“You want to take shifts watching?” the werewolf offered.

With typical Stilinski sarcasm, Stiles smiled. “No, no. I want to spend some quality time with you.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jackson chuckled.

Stiles didn’t laugh—a fact not lost on Jackson, but the werewolf said nothing. It was Stiles who spoke first. “You still wondering why I haven’t said anything about your eyes to Scott and the others?”

“Because you realized just how stupid the idea of me as a True Alpha is?” Jackson replied. “You said it yourself, I’m a murderer.”

Stiles shook his head. “No. We were interrupted the other night before I had a chance to finish. _You_ think you’re a murderer. You were being controlled Jackson. The only one who blames you is you. It’s time for you to forgive yourself.”

“You’re going to keep believing that no matter how many times I tell you otherwise, aren’t you?” Jackson asked.

“Yep.”

“And you’re never going to let this go, are you?” Jackson smirked.

“Nope. Glad we had this talk,” Stiles smiled.

Jackson leaned back into the seat and smiled in return. “I’ve missed you guys.”

Stiles feigned shock. “You lie.”

“It’s true. I’ve even missed your wise-cracking ass.”

“No thinking about my ass,” Stiles grinned. “You’re supposed to be thinking about Isaac’s ass.”

Jackson laughed. “I’m _always_ thinking about Isaac’s ass. Besides, I would never think about your ass. Derek would kill me.”

Stiles’ mirth suddenly vanished. Jackson noticed. “He told us he kissed you.”

“What is it with werewolf packs? You just have to tell each other everything?” Stiles grumbled.

“We’re not a pack anymore. Derek’s not an Alpha,” Jackson pointed out. “We’re friends. All of us—me, Isaac, Derek, Scott, you. I know I was pretty much the opposite of that before I left, but I mean it. Hell, Scott gave me more second chances than I ever deserved. Even after I was dick to him and you and everyone else in this town. I got turned into a homicidal lizard as punishment for who I was. Thanks to all of you, though, I was rewarded with a new life and a chance to be actually happy, for the first time in my life.”

Stiles considered the other boy’s words. “So what’s the punishment for killing a Chimera?”

Jackson no doubt thought Stiles was referring to the boy on the hospital rooftop. Donovan came flashing back into his mind unbidden. “You spend five hours in the car with Jackson Whittemore,” he smirked.

“You aren’t to blame for that guy’s death,” Jackson told him.

Stiles looked over. “Isn’t that what I’ve been telling you about what happened when you were a Kanima?”

“That’s different. A werewolf’s eyes change color when you take an innocent life,” Jackson protested. “Do these look gold to you?”

When Jackson’s eyes flashed, they were neither golden nor blue. “Jackson,” Stiles answered, pointing.

The werewolf realized to what Stiles was pointing and glanced into the rear-view mirror of the Jeep. He saw the crimson eyes of an Alpha. He didn’t have time to react before he smelled something. “What?” Stiles asked.

“A scent,” Jackson answered. “Like smoke. Like something burning.”

A flaming fist punched through the passenger window and connected with his jaw with a force that knocked him out cold.

Blood sprayed all over Stiles’ face just before his vehicle was lifted up and flipped over, leaving him unconscious. When the Jeep burst into flames, it seemed a foregone conclusion that the pair would be sharing its fate. Luckily, the bruised and battered Jackson managed to wake up in time to drag the driver free.

Jackson grabbed the fire extinguisher from the clinic and tried to contain the blaze. The blast of carbon dioxide roused Stiles, who began coughing profusely.

“The body,” the former Kanima began. “The body’s gone.”


	12. Coming Full Circle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A whole lotta spoilers for 5.08 "Ouroboros"

Scott raced through the woods, faster than the other could keep up. He stopped at the edge of the cliff and roared. It was the roar of an Alpha, and it echoed not only through the night sky but through the bones of the other werewolves. He shook his head as Isaac finally caught up with him. “There’s no scent, no tracks,” the True Alpha wheezed. “No way to find them.”

“But Liam can howl back, right?” Isaac asked. It seemed like a foregone conclusion to the Beta, but Scott’s face still registered concern.

Scott stared out at the lights that illuminated Beacon Hills. The city wasn’t massive by any means, but with no clue where to look, the task seemed daunting on an unparalleled level, and time was running out. “Only if he heard me.”

 

By the time Scott gave up the search and went back to his house, Isaac, Jackson, and Stiles were waiting for him. Stiles asked if he had found anything, but Scott ignored him as he walked past all three. The expression was hard to miss, but it was Jackson who said something. “Scott?”

He stormed back to his bedroom where Brett and Mason were standing over Corey, who was sitting on the bed. “Sorry,” the chimera apologized. “I’m only on chapter two. I’m kind of a slow reader.”

“That’s okay, Corey,” Mason reassured him with a smile.

Scott stormed in. “He’s right. We don’t have time for that anyway.”

Mason didn’t know what was happening, but Brett, a pureblood, did. “Scott, don’t!” he protested as the Alpha sunk his claws into the back of Corey’s neck. The younger boy contracted in a painful rigor, sucking in his breath desperately while the Alpha painfully searched his memories. Scott’s eyes burned a brilliant red.

 

“Sheriff, I got the information about the prank call the other night. The one from the library?” Deputy Clark—oblivious to her sister Hayden’s current predicament—excitedly told Sheriff Stilinski. “I was going to file it, but I saw the name.”

The Sheriff looked at her incredulously. “Clark, what do you need?”

“I was… I checked on the key cards… for the library. They’re for after-hours use,” she stammered, realizing she was interrupting something. “Should I come back later?”

Stilinski looked at her like she was the stupidest human being on the planet. “Why are you telling me about library key cards?”

“The system logged one name right around the time of the 911 call,” she explained.

The Sheriff looked at her expectantly (and impatiently). “What name?”

“Your son,” she hesitated. “Stiles.”

Stilinski’s expression changed as he reached for the paperwork. “Let me see that.”

“I mean, obviously, Stiles isn’t making prank calls to the station,” Clark backpedaled.

The Sheriff nodded. “I’ll deal with it.”

 

Hearing Brett’s protest, Isaac, Jackson, and Stiles ran into Scott’s bedroom. “Don’t get too close,” the pureblood warned.

“What’s he doing?” Jackson asked, having never seen claws in the back of the neck used for anything but intimidation.

Brett answered without taking his eyes off the Alpha. “Tapping into Corey’s memories. It’s usually something only Alphas do.” There was no missing the derisiveness in his tone.

Jackson moved next to Scott for a closer look. “Is it as dangerous as it looks?”

“Probably more,” Stiles replied, the bothered nature of his own voice evident as well.

“Does anyone know if it’s working?” Mason asked.

 

After another moment, a panicked-looking Scott withdrew his claws and fell into Stiles’ arms, and the pained chimera fell away. Brett and Mason were instantly at Corey’s side, and the pureblood seemed to be interposing himself between the boy and the Alpha.

“Is he okay?” Scott panted.

Crying, Corey yelled, “What the hell did you do to me?”

“You’ll be alright,” the staggered Alpha assured him.

Withdrawing his hand from the back of his neck, Corey stared at his findings. “There’s blood.”

“You’ll heal,” Scott said, almost dismissively. Brett’s eyes shot daggers.

In a gentle tone, Stiles addressed his friend, “Scott….”

“He’ll be fine!” the Alpha shouted. “Listen, I think it worked.”

Everyone in the room was looking at Scott… and trying to figure out who they were actually seeing.

“I saw something,” he began, oblivious to the change in the proverbial climate of the room. He was frantically drawing on a sketch pad. “There were tunnels… pipes on the walls… there were these two huge blue pipes at the entrance—two on boths sides.”

Stiles looked at the result. “Wait a minute. I know this… I’ve seen this before. One of the tunnels I used to skateboard in when my Dad caught me one time, told me to never go back.”

“It’s the water treatment plant,” Isaac said.

Scott stared at his friend like he couldn’t believe they finally had something. “That’s where they are. That’s where we’ll find Liam and Hayden.”

 

As Scott raced down the stairs, Stiles was right behind him, calling and repeating his name. “Slow down. Just think for a second. Hey, Mason shouldn’t be going.”

“Liam’s my best friend,” the teen protested. “I’m going.”

Stiles stopped. “Oh,” he said sarcastically, “did you suddenly get super wolf powers? I wasn’t aware of that development.”

“If you’re not coming, I could use the help,” Scott told his own best friend.

Stiles sighed. “No, I’m coming, just as soon as I talk to my Dad. They’re moving the body. This time, he wants to make sure no one steals it.”

“How’s he gonna do that?” Isaac asked.

“I don’t know,” Stiles admitted, “but whoever took the last one was strong enough to flip my jeep.”

Isaac, who was following his friend without hesitation, looked at his boyfriend. “Jackson can go with us.”

Scott looked at his old rival, awaiting a response.

“Maybe I better stay here,” the former Kanima said. The eye color change was a mystery, and until he had answers, he didn’t want to put his friends at risk. “You know, in case the Doctors decide to make a house call for Corey?”

Brett interjected. “Scott, Stiles is right. We need to slow down and think.”

“I _am_ thinking,” Scott shot back. “About how Liam and Hayden could already be dead.”

“You could have hurt him, Scott,” Brett challenged, obviously speaking of Corey. “ _Really_ hurt him.”

For a moment, Jackson saw the old Scott—the one before he was an Alpha. The guilt and big heart were almost crushing him, but they were gone as quickly as they had appeared. Resolutely, his only answer was, “I have to find Liam.”

“Text me… for anything,” Stiles told Isaac.

Isaac nodded. “I got it.”

“Anything at all, okay?” Stiles elaborated.

 

Scott, Isaac, and Mason began searching the enormity that was the old water treatment plant. Tunnel after tunnel, it all looked the same. “Liam!” Isaac called out.

“Can you catch a scent?” Mason asked.

Scott shook his head. “There’s too many chemicals.”

“Man, this might take a while,” the normal human pointed out.

 

Stiles was on the phone when he got to the hospital. “You tell me, man, you’re the mechanic. If the gas tank didn’t rupture and nothing electrical was burned, then how did the fire start?”

Stopping to stare at his phone in disbelief, he repeated the words. “Spontaneously combusted? That’s your answer. Are you kidding me?”

His father took his phone before the conversation continued further. “What are you doing here?” the Sheriff asked.

“Dad,” Stiles began, “you gotta leave the body, okay? Leave it and let whoever wants to take it just take it. Trust me.”

“I’m doing my job, Stiles. Go home… now!” When Stiles followed him into the elevator, he stared at his son. “This is not up for debate.”

Stiles didn’t falter. “Well, then I’m not leaving.”

That’s when his father saw a hospital ID badge and mentioned the library key cards. With a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, Stiles lied and said he lost his.

 

Scott, Isaac, and Mason continued to search for Liam and Hayden fruitlessly.

 

“It healed, didn’t it?” Corey asked.

Brett looked over at Jackson, who marveled at the chimera’s healing factor with a macabre and chilling curiosity. “Yeah… completely.”

“Okay, then,” the boy said, standing. “It’s been fun, especially the part where a werewolf forced his way into my brain with his claws.”

As Corey turned and began walking away, Jackson told him, “I don’t think leaving is such a good idea, Corey.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he fired back.

“Then give us a better chance of finding our friends,” Jackson pleaded. “What did you see? Come on, Corey! There had to have been something else.”

Something about Jackson’s expression made him feel guilty, so Corey recounted again. “There was the hospital, and they took me out of my room….”

“And then where?” Brett asked.

“The tunnels,” he answered. “Like I already told you, that’s it.”

“Yeah,” Jackson nodded. “And nothing after that.”

Corey was visibly irritated. “No.”

“There has to be more. Think!” Jackson demanded. “Corey, for one minute, just think!”

He sighed. He thought about it, then it was like a light bulb appeared over his head. “There was a basement.”

“Where?” Brett asked. “Like, in a building?

“A house,” he corrected. “It was old… covered in dust and there was a broken stone wall with a large hole in it, like a bomb went off.”

Jackson turned to Brett. “Brett, the werewolf with the talons—the one that attacked Scott—Parish said he smashed through the wall of a basement. Keep an eye on him. I’m going to check it out.”

 

Stiles stared at the ID— _M. Stilinski_ —while he sat in one of the uncomfortable chairs of the hospital waiting area. His hands shook as he tried to crumble it and drop it in the trash.

 

“I’m telling you guys, we’ve been down this one before,” Mason told the two werewolves.

Isaac looked to Scott, who seemed on the verge of a breakdown. “What the Hell are we doing? We’re running up and down this place,” the Alpha wheezed, “up and down tunnels. There’s no way. There’s no way we’re gonna find….”

“Scott, you need your inhaler,” Isaac told him, but the other werewolf just shook his head. “Scott, use it! Use your inhaler!”

The Alpha dropped to his knees and finally did as he was instructed. After puffing it in, he stared down despondently. “This is all my fault. We’re never going to find them. It’s my fault.”

Mason shook his head. “Scott,” he told him, extended a hand down to him to pull him up. “We have to keep looking. We have to keep trying.”

 

“Liam? Hayden?” Jackson called out as he saw the shapes beyond the fence.

“JACKSON, DON’T!” Liam tried to warn him before the older werewolf grabbed the chain-link, its electrified current coursing through him at a lethal level.

Jackson fell backwards onto the ground as the world went black. He thought he was dead. The headache from the ringing in his ears made him wished he were.

“ _…ckson?_ ” Not just ringing.

“Jackson?” the voice repeated, slowly rousing him back to consciousness. As he struggled to sit up, the voice kept talking. “Jackson, are you alright?”

Grunting, he lied through clenched teeth. “Yeah,” he managed, feeling his healing factor trying to regenerate wounds he didn’t even want to think about. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Do you think you can get help?” Liam asked.

“I am the help,” Jackson tried to smile reassuringly.

He moved closer, and the young Beta wisely knew to get back, trying to shield Hayden. Jackson grabbed the fence again, and the electricity, once again, tried to repel him. The former Kanima held fast. Every muscle groaning and straining, trying to contract to the point of breaking, he slowly pulled. His fangs were fully bared, and his eyes were shining in a display of power… a very _red_ display that Liam couldn’t take his eyes off of. With a final roar, the gates were apart.

 

“Go get your son, Sheriff,” Parish told Stilinski in a flat tone.

“DAD?” Stiles yelled, having heard the commotion.

Father and son realized the body was gone.

 

Hopeless, Scott, Isaac, and Mason returned, but when they got to the house, they found Liam and Hayden inside. The Alpha wanted to ask questions… to get answers. Instead, he got a hug. Jackson felt it now. Isaac had helped him understand what it was to love another person, even more than Lydia, but Scott had shown him how to care… about everyone. The emotions that flooded the former Kanima held no words. He just wanted to thank the Alpha for not giving up on him, for actually caring about him when no one else did.

Scott returned the embrace reluctantly. He could feel something different about Jackson now.

If Jackson felt the hesitation, he said nothing. Instead, he moved to embrace Mason next. He barely knew the boy, but every time he looked at him, Jackson saw Stiles. Mason was Liam’s Stiles, a normal human in a world he was ill-prepared for, but he wasn’t ill-equipped—he had courage and a devotion that overrode self-preservation.

When Jackson pulled away, Isaac was the one who moved to close the distance between them. The Beta kissed his boyfriend with renewed fervor. He didn’t know he was kissing an Alpha. He just knew he was kissing someone who meant the world to him and, amidst so much death, was very much alive.

 

Stiles handed Derek the scorched piece of metal with Parrish’s name. “It’s him. He’s the one taking the bodies, and I think I know where he’s taking them.”

As Stiles started for the door, Derek grabbed his arm. “We’re in woefully over our heads. People are dying, and we’re powerless to stop it. Now, one of those we trust almost killed you and Jackson. Before we leave, before we do anything else, I have to tell you….”

“Tell me what?” Stiles asked, his breath hitching with anticipation.

“That I love you,” the Pureblood said without even a moment’s hesitation. “I think, on some level, I’ve always loved you. As much as you can infuriate me more than any other person on this planet, I don’t want to spend another minute without you.”

Stiles stared at him blankly. It made Derek’s heart skip a beat.

“Stiles,” the werewolf called, trying to snap him out of it. “This is not the time for you to actually shut up. Say something, _please_.”

“You _love_ me?” Stiles’ lips slowly broke into a smile, and he pounced on Derek, driving his mouth against the older man’s in a kiss even more desperate than the one that had been given when their roles were reversed.


	13. Dying Breaths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More chimeras die. More bodies go missing. The question of the five million dollar bounty on a certain deputy is finally definitively answered. In what may be the final battle with the Dread Doctors, things turn fatal, and hard decisions must be made that will change things forever. Who lives? Who dies? Who's left to pick up the pieces? One relationship will end. Another is just beginning. Still another is confusing matters for all involved. There's no caps and gowns yet, but it's a graduation day of sorts. Here's where Senior Year really starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILER WARNING! This contains MAJOR spoilers for 5.09 "Lies of Omission" and 5.10 "Status Asthmaticus". In particular, the question of #WhatIsParrish? gets answered. The story, however, takes a major departure from canon.

“It’s been five days,” Scott pointed out.  “We haven’t seen any new Chimeras, and we haven’t seen the Dread Doctors.  We all go to school, pretending like nothing’s happened, but everyone seems to know.  You just walk down the halls and no one’s smiling… no one’s laughing.”

Isaac offered a sympathetic look.  “Not entirely true.  Stiles is smiling like an idiot.  Even Derek is smiling, which I would have once sworn would cause his face to crack wide open.”

Scott tried to smile, but he couldn’t.  “You get the feeling that everyone can sense that something’s coming?  They just don’t know what it is, or how bad it’s going to be.”

Isaac nodded.

“Every time I feel like I should do something about it, I find myself reaching for my inhaler,” the Alpha lamented.  “Like I’m going to take a hit of it and come up with some brilliant solution on how to save everyone… but I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t think anyone does,” Isaac told him.

“Maybe that’s why no one’s really talking to each other.  Sometimes we don’t even notice each other,” Scott acknowledged.  “But I think some of us are okay with that, because not talking makes it easier to keep secrets.  And I don’t know if anyone’s really lying about things.  Maybe it’s more like lies of omission.”

Isaac could find nothing to offer than another weak nod.

“Maybe the worst lie is to Stilinski, because no one’s told him about Parrish yet,” Scott suggested.

Isaac shook his head.  “No one’s told Parrish, either.  He doesn’t seem to remember taking the bodies, and he only seems to be dangerous if you try to get in his way.”

“If Stilinski knew the truth, he’d definitely get in his way,” Scott pointed out.

“Which is why Derek and Stiles are trying to find the bodies, which means finding the Nemeton,” Isaac reminded him.  “They’re driving around, searching all of the woods.”

Scott and Isaac seemed to both feel a pointed reminder of the lack of Allison’s presence, but it was the Alpha who broke the silence.  “But the last time that we found that thing, three of us had to almost drown in ice water.”

“Been there, done that, remember?” Isaac tried to smile.  “Not really a fan.”

“All I can think about is how good am I going to be if I can’t even breathe?”

Isaac raised one eyebrow.  “You sound like you’re trying to apologize.”

“You came back to be part of an Alpha’s pack.  I guess I’m sorry that you found me,” Scott apologized.

Isaac took issue with that.  “I’m not sorry.  I didn’t come back for an Alpha.  I came back for my friend.”

“Speaking of Alphas, how is Jackson handling things?”

Isaac shook his head.  “He’s not.  He still thinks it’s some kind of mistake or fluke that’s going to go back to normal—whatever the hell that is—at any moment.  Every time I try to talk to him about it, we either wind up arguing, having sex, or both.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Scott grinned.

“Regardless of what he thinks, he’s definitely got an Alpha’s stamina,” Isaac blushed.

 

“It’s almost like this thing doesn’t want to be found,” Stiles sighed.  “Maybe it knows I’m late for class.”

Derek pointed to the two chalk markings on a nearby tree.  “We’ve been here twice.”

“Crap,” Stiles sighed heavily again.

“Can we talk to Parrish now?” Derek suggested, though he didn’t relish the thought of facing Jordan.  He was officially with Stiles now, but even the thought of the Deputy still had an effect on him.

Stiles was growing more frustrated by the second.  “If the Nemeton’s covered in bodies, shouldn’t you be able to find them?”

Derek looked at him strangely.  “Me?”

“Yes, you.  That’s what you do,” Stiles argued.  “You’re the werewolf with the werewolf senses, you sense things.”

Derek glared at him.  “Well, the werewolf’s having an off day, so how about we talk to Parrish?”

“We can’t,” Stiles protested, both because of the uncomfortable attraction he now knew he had towards the Deputy and because of Donovan.

“Why not?”

“Because one of the bodies… one of them… one of them could be…,” Stiles stammered.

Derek was visibly irritated.  “Could be what?”

“One of them could be a clue.”

“We’re leaving now, Stiles,” Derek informed him.  “I’m going to talk to Parrish and tell him he’s the one taking the bodies while you get back to class.”

Stiles sighed.  “Well, then, he should know he owes me a Jeep.”

“I’ll be sure and mention that,” Derek smirked.  “Get in the car.  Like you said, you’re already late.”

 

“I need to call it in,” Jordan said.  “No, I need to turn myself in.”

Derek shook his head.  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“You just told me I’m the one taking the bodies,” he protested.  “I’ve attacked other law enforcement officers.  That’s a criminal offense.  I shouldn’t even be near you.”

Derek smiled.  “I’m not afraid of you.”

“ _I_ ’m afraid of me,” the Deputy admitted.

“Whatever’s happening seems to only happen when there’s a body,” Derek pointed out.  “Other than that you’re still a pretty nice guy… and you’re a pretty good deputy.”

Parrish glowered at him.  “I’m a very good deputy, and I’d like to stay that way.” He sighed.  “Flipping over Jeeps and attacking colleagues doesn’t exactly fit with ‘protect and serve’.”

Derek stared at him but said nothing.  The expression, however, was one of expectancy.  He knew the other man wasn’t done bemoaning his situation.

“I’m covering up the bodies of murdered teenagers,” Jordan finally decried.

The werewolf shook his head again.  “You’re not covering them up.” But then a thought occurred to him.  “Actually, maybe you are.”

“What?” Parrish asked, cocking one eyebrow.

“It’s the same thing Stilinksi did with Tracy.  You’re not covering up bodies… you’re covering up the supernatural,” Derek speculated.

It was the Deputy’s turn to shake his head.  “What’s the difference?”

“Maybe you’re keeping the secret safe.  Maybe that’s part of what you do,” he told him.

“I’m a deputy.”

“You’re not _just_ a deputy,” Derek pointed out.  “And you aren’t one of the bad guys.”

Jordan shook his head.  “You haven’t heard the rest of my dream—every time I carry a body to the Nemeton, I put it down and add to the ones that are already there.”

“How many?”

Parrish met the pureblood’s gaze.  “Hundreds, Derek.  Hundreds of them.”

“What the hell does he think he’s doing?” Stilinski asked as he moved next to Derek.

“Protecting us,” Derek sighed.

The Sheriff looked confused.  “From who?”

“Himself.”

“No!” Parrish protested.  “I get why you sat me at a desk for six months now.”

“Parrish, we can’t keep you in here,” Stiles’ father told him.

Parrish’s face blanched.  “There’s another body, right?”

“Two, actually,” Stilinski told him.

“I’m the one taking them,” the Deputy sighed.  “I… I don’t know why, and I definitely don’t remember doing it, but if it really was me at the morgue, then I’m dangerous.”

The Sheriff opened his mouth to speak, but Jordan cut him off.  “Okay?  You can’t let me out, Sheriff.  You can’t.”

 

Jackson and Scott had managed to reach the club in time to rescue Liam and Hayden, but the confrontation was short-lived.  Even two True Alphas weren’t faring well against the Dread Doctors, so they opted to retreat.  They took the wounded Chimera to the animal clinic, and though the Beta was no worse for wear, the same couldn’t be said for the girl.  They realized it was mercury poisoning—and likely fatal—but the younger werewolf reminded the one who bit him of his promise to help.

Scott called his mother, and she rushed right over with “borrowed” supplies from the hospital.  Without any preamble, she began setting up.

“What’s that?” Liam asked.

“It’s called chelation therapy,” Melissa hastily explained.  “It removes heavy metals from the blood.  The problem is it can injure the kidneys, and Hayden only has one to begin with.”

When she started an IV, Hayden whimpered, and Liam grabbed the nurse’s wrist… _hard_.  “You’re hurting her!”

“And you’re hurting me,” the woman told him calmly.  Scott looked immediately on edge, and Jackson found himself wondering if he was going to have to break up a fight between his old rival and the werewolf he had created.

“Sorry,” Liam quickly apologized.

Scott visibly relaxed and explained to his mother.  “It’s the Full Moon.  We can feel it even during the day.”

“Yeah, it’s the Super Moon,” Jackson agreed.

“What’s that?” she asked.  “Supposed to make you guys super-strong?  Super-aggressive?”

Scott nodded.  “Both.”

The trio of werewolves could only watch and vainly hope that the human’s medical skills would prove more useful than their supernatural abilities or knowledge.  Finally, Scott—anxious and restless—realized that they were still the only ones there.  “Where’s Isaac?”

“He went to pick up Stiles,” Jackson answered.  “The jeep broke down again.”

 

“Go home, Derek,” Jordan told the werewolf, his back against the bars.  “Stilinski isn’t telling anyone where he put the bodies, and I’m pretty sure I’m not psychic.”

Derek felt his heart breaking for the man who looked so despondent at being someone—or something—responsible for part of the chaos the town was going through.  “But you’re drawn to death, just like Lydia.”

Parrish turned to face Derek.  The sparks between them were almost palpable.  “Does that make me a kind of banshee?”

“You find bodies,” the pureblood agreed.

“I find chimeras,” Parrish corrected.

“ _Dead_ chimeras,” Derek also corrected.

The Deputy turned away from the former Alpha again.  “So I’m a harbinger of death?” he sighed, defeated.  “I should probably add that to my resume.”

Derek smiled softly at the man’s weak attempt at humor.  He found himself reaching through the bars to place his fingers atop the back of Jordan’s hand.

Parrish savored the touch for a moment before standing up and crossing the cell to take a seat.  “Does it help knowing?” he asked, changing the subject with a lump in his throat.  “Knowing what you are?”

“I was born a werewolf, but when my abilities began to manifest, I was terrified,” Derek admitted.  “Knowing, though, it didn’t scare me as much as it probably would have if I’d been turned by a bite.  Even before the Dead Pool, you’ve run headlong into one situation after the next that was way beyond your depth, and it never seemed to phase you.  Does being afraid you’re going to hurt someone always scare you more than death?”

The Deputy shook his head.  “Mostly, but not this one time.”

“Really?” Derek asked, somewhat surprised.

Jordan crossed the cell to come closer to explain.  “It was the night I found that werewolf… the one with the talons?  I thought I was going to die that night.”

“How come?”

“Because I saw… Lydia,” Parrish lied, not wanting to tell the pureblood that it was him that he had seen in what he presumed were his final moments.  He shrugged it off dismissively.  “I saw the banshee, but I guess it was just a dream or hallucination.”

“What was she doing?” Derek asked accusingly, and the Deputy knew his heartbeat had betrayed him.

Jordan slowed his breathing and recounted the vision, substituting the one in it and giving so few details that he could almost believe it was the truth himself.  “Trying to keep me alive,” he grinned.

Derek couldn’t stop himself from smiling back in return.  “Sorry, but Lydia mostly tries to stay out of the rain.  That was the night of the big storm, remember?”

Parrish nodded in recollection.

“The Wild Hunt,” Derek muttered absently.

“What?” the Deputy asked.

“An old myth I remember about thunderstorms,” the werewolf explained.  “Ghost riders in the sky and black dogs and ….”

Jordan noticed Derek trail off, obviously distracted by a thought.  “What is it?”

“I need to check on something,” Derek exhaled sharply.  “I’ll be right back.  Don’t go anywhere.”

When he realized the absurdity of his instructions, he turned back to see Parrish rolling his eyes at him.  “You know what I mean,” he growled.

 

“Lydia, slow down!” Stiles shouted into the phone.  Isaac glared over at him concerned.  Stiles shook his head.  “I can’t even understand what you’re saying.”

When Stiles got quiet, that’s when Isaac got _really_ concerned.  Stiles face paled and he dropped the phone.  “We have to get to the library.”

“Why?” Isaac asked, though he had already begun turning the car around.

“Because if we don’t, Derek’s going to die.”

 

_Woden’s Hunt, also known as the “Wild Ride” or “Wild Hunt”, is a myth of devilish riders in the sky accompanied by black dogs, spectral beasts whose eyes glowed with fire…_

Derek continued reading.

_… a bearer of death and guardian of the supernatural.  The black dog is also known by its more common name, the Hellhound._

Derek slammed the book shut, ready to return to the station when he turned to the see the trio of Dread Doctors before him.

“A man _and_ a wolf.  It is a rare ability, even among those like you,” one of them chirped in beginning. 

The next one clicked, “Not just the features of the animal, but able to truly transform from one to the other.”

“Two things in one,” the last one hissed.  “You are something of a chimera yourself.  This requires further examination.”

 

Scott had gone to the station to find Hayden’s sister, but he was told that Deputy Valerie Clark was out on a call with Sheriff Stilinski.  He was just about to leave when he heard the alarm.  One of the deputies muttered, “What the Hell?’ He turned to see Parrish, almost in a trance, walking towards the exit with scorch marks on his face.

“Wait!  Don’t shoot!” he commanded, lacing his voice with the full authority of an Alpha.  The deputies had no idea why, but they felt the need to obey.  “Stay back!  Stay out of his way!”

The werewolf followed Jordan to a fenced impound yard.  He watched as Parrish pulled the pair of bodies from the back of a cargo van.

 

Inside the library, Derek was fighting for his life.  Stiles and Isaac arrived and watched in horror.  The pureblood was being beaten mercilessly.  Stiles was afraid that the man who’d just professed his love—the one Stiles loved more than anything—was about to die, so he rushed in without a thought.  Isaac tried to follow, but the Dread Doctors had surrounded the building with Mountain Ash.  It was holding him at bay.

Stiles didn’t hesitate to grab a chair and try to get their attention.  Unfortunately, he did just that.  The one with the cane shoved the stick through his gut, and Stiles slid off of it and onto the floor… blood rapidly pooling around him.  Isaac could do nothing but watch helplessly.

Derek was so busy fighting for his life that he hadn’t realized what had happened.  At least, not until he saw an unconscious and bleeding Stiles.  He let out a roar that was equal parts pain and anger….

… And in the animal clinic, Jackson heard his former Alpha’s need.  He made it to the library with inhuman speed before he, like his boyfriend, found his way barred.  He looked at Isaac helplessly.

“When Scott finally became a true Alpha, Ms. Blake, the Darach, had surrounded herself in a ring of Mountain Ash.  He was able to push through it,” Isaac explained, but there was more that Jackson needed to hear.  “He said it almost killed him.”

Jackson nodded without hesitation.  “I’m not the man or leader Scott is, but the one thing I’ve done right in my miserable life was loving and being loved by you,” he said before he began to push against the force field.  His eyes flashed red, and he felt like he was being rent asunder….

 

Liam cradled Hayden’s head in his lap when he saw Parrish before him.  Melissa McCall started to say something, but through tear-stained cheeks, he shook his head, indicating that she shouldn’t.  He reluctantly pulled back his hands as the Hellhound lifted her corpse to deliver it to the Nemeton.

 

… Derek was about to die.  Empowered by the Super Moon, the former Alpha was too unbridled in his rage and ferocity.  The Dread Doctors clearly no longer wanted to capture him.  They had said as much, citing his emotional entanglements made him too dangerous to their plans.

“Dear God,” Jackson began, tears streaming down his cheeks, “I have no idea if you’re real or if you even give a tinker’s damn about a screw-up like me, but please, let me open the way.  Even if it kills me, let my friends live.  I’m begging you.”

Jackson pushed harder, and he felt it.  He felt like something inside him was breaking, and he thought sure he was dead.  Worse, he thought he had failed Derek and Stiles.  Instead, though, something—be it internal or external—answered his prayers.  His eyes flared an even more intense crimson, and the Mountain Ash scattered to the winds like dust in the wind.  The ominous sound that erupted when that happened stayed the hands of both werewolf and Dread Doctors alike.

“Unexpected,” one of them said simply.

Jackson collapsed to his knees, and Isaac knelt next to him.  Jackson shook his head frantically.  “Don’t worry about me.  Go!  Get them out of there!”

Seeing hope for the first time, Derek redoubled his efforts.  Isaac, too, seemed driven to new heights of power by both devoted love and the perigee-syzygy.  Also empowered was the recently arrived and already fuming with rage young Beta, whose Intermittent Explosive Disorder was bordering on a nuclear level under the Super Moon.  Each werewolf relentlessly pushed back the Steampunk-garbed nightmares.

Jackson, weakened, literally pulled his entire body weight into the library by crawling.  He made it next to Stiles, who coughed up a final blood spurt and went still.  The Alpha couldn’t hear a heartbeat.  He couldn’t hear Stiles taking a single breath.  “Where’s Scott?” he screamed.

Isaac knew the answer.  He had called his friend before Jackson had arrived.  “He was on the other side of town.  He’s at least ten minutes away!”

Jackson wished Scott was here.  Wish he didn’t have to believe something about himself that he knew just couldn’t be true.  Scott was the Alpha… but Scott wasn’t here.  He looked up at the struggling Derek, who caught his eyes.  The momentary distraction almost proved fatal for the pureblood, but amidst the din of battle, he looked back at his former Beta and nodded.

Before he lost his nerve, Jackson roared as if to give his friends some measure of his strength (and to conceal his own doubts).  Inhaling sharply, his eyes glowed as his fangs extended… and sank into Stiles’ flesh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The likelihood of the inclusion of Season 5B material is pretty small now. Season 5A served as a backdrop, but the story is just beginning.


	14. Once Bitten, Might Die

Time seemed to slow down for Derek.  His attentions were so squarely focused on Stiles that he didn’t even realize when the Dread Doctors left.  The werewolves hadn’t really beaten them—they more just… _left_.  The pureblood also hadn’t realized that Scott had arrived.  The Alpha had blood on his claws as the nails receded back to their normal human length.

Jackson was on his knees, sitting on the balls of his feet as he kept staring at Stiles, too.  He looked over at Scott, and then Derek.  “Did I do it wrong?  Is there something else I’m supposed to do?” he asked.  Both Alpha and former Alpha shook their heads.  “Maybe you should bite him, Scott.”

“No,” Derek said, though that simple, monosyllabic word nearly ripped his heart from his chest.  “There’s a very good chance he’s not one that can survive the bite.  There’s an absolute chance that he won’t survive two.”

Jackson looked down at Stiles helplessly.  “Nononono!” he screamed at the unconscious boy.  “Don’t you do this to me, Stilinski!” Leaning over, he pinched Stiles’ nose and exhaled into his mouth twice.  When nothing happened in response, he began performing chest compressions.

Derek didn’t realize when the Sheriff and Melissa McCall arrived either.  They appeared in the periphery of his vision at the same time, so he presumed they had done so together.  Jackson looked up at Melissa, tears in his eyes.  “Help me… please!” he begged.

The nurse didn’t hesitate, moving to help the new Alpha perform two-person CPR.  Dimly, Derek wondered when the captain of the lacrosse team had learned the skills, but he chalked it up to not really knowing the teen who had returned from London as well as the one who had left Beacon Hills.  Wondering was all he could do—it was all anyone could do.  Everyone watched helplessly, wondering if Stiles was going to live or die.

Well, wondering… and waiting.  For fifteen minutes they waited, and there was nothing.  No flicker of life.  No movement.  Melissa was the first to stop, and she reached over to stop the Alpha from continuing.  She shook her head.  Tears streamed down Jackson’s cheeks as he looked down in horror.  Sheriff Stilinski screamed and pushed everyone out of the way.  He rocked back and forth, cradling his son his arms.

The Sheriff finally noticed the bite mark on Stiles’ arm.  He looked up to see the trickle of blood on Jackson’s chin.  “YOU!” he shouted incredulously.  “You did this!  You killed him!”

“No, he didn’t,” Scott quickly jumped in.  “He tried to save him.  He tried to turn him so that he would heal, but it was too late.”

The Sheriff’s face was a mask of rage.  “You’re right.  It’s not his fault… it’s yours!  He wanted to be the hero.  He wanted to be the savior.  But he was only human!  He wasn’t some monster like all of you!  He was just a brave, _stupid_ boy!”

“Stiles never wanted to be the hero.  He just wanted to protect his friends.  He didn’t want to be the savior,” Derek interrupted, “he just was.  He was the one who came in with his one-liners and his baseball bat and was braver than any of us.  It wasn’t Scott’s fault.  It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

The words did nothing but exacerbate the Sheriff’s rage.  “You know what?  You’re right.  It’s not Scott’s fault.  It’s yours!” he screamed.  “All of this started with you and your family.  Peter wanted you here.  Peter’s the one who bit Scott.  You coming back here introduced them to all of this.  You turned these two into the same thing you are.  For what?  For power?  Because you were lonely?  Why couldn’t you leave everyone alone?”

“If he’d left me alone, I would have probably been dead at the hands of my own father,” Isaac interrupted, “while Jackson watched from across the street and you and your deputies did nothing.”

Derek held up a hand to his former Beta and shook his head.  He appreciated the sentiment, but if the Sheriff needed someone to focus his wrath on, the pureblood wanted to keep it squarely on himself.  “I’m sorry, Sheriff.  I truly am.  I loved Stiles, and I would have rather never met him than to take him away from you.”

Sheriff Stilinski could scarcely breathe, his inhalations ragged and labored.  His eyes were swollen and red from the tears pouring from his eyes and dripping from his chin.  He had already lost the love of his life, and now he had lost the child they had created together.  In his grief, he stood and leveled his pistol at Derek.  Immediately, Isaac, Jackson, and Scott moved between them while Melissa McCall placed her hands atop the Sheriff’s.  “Don’t do this.  You don’t want to do this, and you know Stiles wouldn’t want you to do this.”

“It’s true,” Scott offered.  “Stiles loved Derek.”

“He loved all of you,” the Sheriff replied, his hands shaking as his ire was returning to grief.

Scott shook his head.  “He was _in love_ with Derek.”

The Sheriff looked at the other boys who each nodded in turn.  Finally, he looked at the former Alpha.  “What about you?  What do you have to say about all of this?”

“I loved him, too,” Derek admitted.  “I was just too blind to see it until recently.”

The Sheriff began weeping again, putting the gun away.  Melissa idly wondered if the bullets posed any real threat to the werewolves.  She knew Chris Argent had left some aconite bullets for the police, so she was glad no one was going to have to find out.  “What do I do now?” he asked weakly.

“Now, we say goodbye,” Melissa, crying herself, told him.

Everyone fell silent, and all eyes turned to their fallen friend.  There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.  It was expected from Sheriff Stilinski, his father.  No one was surprised when the compassionate McCalls joined him.  Isaac was always emotional.  His boyfriend—reminding everyone just how much of a changed man he was—was crying harder than anyone.  The most shocking, though, was the pureblood werewolf, who was always so stoic.  Derek the hardass was sniffing through snot like he had a cold.  It was honestly a sight that was equal parts touching and laughable because of just how uncharacteristic it really was.

Derek leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on Stiles’ lips.  He finally pulled away, unable to even look at the fallen boy.  That’s why he didn’t see the widened eyes on everyone else’s face.  He understood when he heard his name whispered weakly.  “Derek?”


	15. Afterbite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is a small chapter because it's been a while since I updated. Strange thing is, I had a much longer chapter written for weeks now... and then I erased it and had a different, even longer chapter written. Finally, I decided I didn't like that one either... or the two that came after that. This update includes the only part that remained the same throughout each iteration.

Stiles struggled to sit up, but Melissa held him fast. “Lay still. I need to take a look at your wound,” she said, lifting his shirt. Her expression said it all. She raised her eyes towards the most experienced of the werewolves. “I’m assuming that since he’s awake and talking….”

“That last part’s a shocker,” Isaac muttered, instantly earning a glare from everyone in the room. He shrugged his shoulders apologetically.

Derek nodded to Scott’s mother. “The bite would have made him worse by now, not better, if it was going to kill him.”

“So the wound?” she asked.

“Will heal,” Derek answered.

Sheriff Stilinski was scarcely following the conversation, too shocked by the turn of events and too relieved by the return of his son. “So he’s going to turn into a werewolf?”

“Once upon I would have said ‘yes’ without hesitation,” Derek replied, “but I honestly don’t know anymore. My bite turned Jackson into the Kanima, and Peter turned Kate into a were-jaguar. I simply don’t know, especially since….”

The Sheriff shook his head, wanting the rest of the pureblood’s answer. “Since what?”

Jackson was the one who finished the explanation. “Derek’s trying not to say since it was _my_ bite, he _really_ doesn’t know. Since I was a Kanima, we’re in uncharted territory here.”

“But he’s a werewolf now,” Scott tried to reassure his friend’s father. “And he’s an Alpha—a True Alpha at that. He’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that,” Stilinski glared. “We should have him checked by a doctor.”

Melissa looked at him incredulously. “And tell them what, exactly? My son was stabbed through the gut with a cane from a Steampunk Cenobite that is invisible to the world unless it wants to be seen, was clinically dead for fifteen minutes until the bite of a former bipedal lizard-turned-werewolf True Alpha and the kiss of his one true love brought him back to life?”

Derek blushed at that… _hard_. His response, now that Stiles was out of immediate danger, caused the other boys to smile.

“I’m glad all of you find this so funny,” the Sheriff growled. “What about Dr. Geyer? I’d feel better if he examined him.”

Melissa stared at him in disbelief. “Liam’s stepfather? He doesn’t know about all of this.”

The Sheriff’s face hardened. “Maybe it’s time he did.”

“That’s not your call!” she told him.

“I’m the Sheriff! _I’m_ supposed to protect Beacon Hills!” he shouted back. And there it was. The underlying reason for his ire and non-step yelling. It had nothing to do with him being the Sheriff. It had nothing to do with Beacon Hills. It had everything to do with Stiles. He couldn’t protect him, and he almost died.

Stilinski began helping Stiles to his feet. Every member of the pack moved to assist him, but his glare stopped each one cold. “I’m taking my son home. All of you stay away from him!”

Stiles was so weak that he was barely cognizant of what was going on around him, but he did look at Jackson and smile. “Thank you,” he uttered weakly, even as he placed his hand atop Derek’s for a fleeting touch.

When the pair left, everyone was silent, and Derek still had his arm outstretched like he could still reach Stiles. Melissa walked over to him and urged his hand to his side. “He’ll come around. He’s just scared,” she told them all, shattering the quiet.

“What if he’s right to be scared?” Jackson asked. “What if I made things worse?”

She smiled at her son’s former rival. “You did the right thing by biting him. You saved his life,” she assured him. “If things turn out… _differently_ , then you all will handle it—together, like a pack.”


	16. Changes

“I’m going,” Stiles said flatly.

“Like Hell you are,” his father protested adamantly.

The younger Stilinski glared at him. “It’s been over a week. You haven’t even let me go to school! I’m tired of being trapped in this house. They’ve played by your rules and stayed away, but I want to see my friends.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” the Sheriff shot back. Sighing, he tried to soften his voice. “Son, you almost died.”

Stiles saw the change in his Dad’s posture and tried to rein in the volatile responses so he could match the even tone. “So did you, remember? To save you, I had to let a darkness inside of me that made me kill one of my best friends.” It was something of a low blow—as he could see in the man’s face—but it had the desired effect of getting his attention. “We’re both still here to tell the tale, so the only thing I can hold onto before I go screaming back into Eichen House is the belief that we’ve already been through the worst of it.”

“You don’t know that.”

Stiles shook his head. “No, I don’t… any more than you know I’m wrong. But what I _do_ know is that the full moon is tomorrow, and the odds are that I’m going to turn into something, and most likely something out of control. I’d rather a werewolf pack that cares about me is there to keep me from hurting anyone else than my own father has to shoot me to put me down.”

“I couldn’t shoot you,” his father glared at him.

In an emphatic gesture, Stiles replied, “All the more reason. Besides, you can’t really afford to be off.”

“I have vacation time!”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” his son countered. “Deputy Clark is still on leave after Hayden’s death. Parrish has skipped town on some Quai Chang Caine mission of self-discovery since he found out he’s a flaming, three-headed dog. You have like zero deputies.”

The Sheriff smirked. “First of all, Parrish isn’t a three-headed dog, but until he’s got a handle on this Hellhound thing, I can’t have him on the job.”

“Which means you’re short-handed,” Stiles pointed out.

“Do you really think I’m going to go to work while you go through… _whatever_?” Stilinski asked.

Stiles shook his head. “No, even though you probably should. Whatever happens, we’re going to need more firepower than a gun will bring.”

“Fine,” his Dad relented. “Call Scott. He’s an Alpha.”

Stiles nodded. “I plan to, but he’s been an Alpha for less than two years, and the red eyes didn’t come with an instruction manual.”

“What about Jackson?”

“I’m not even going to make the obligatory reference to how much of a dick he was before since he genuinely seems to have become, you know, a human being,” Stiles began, “but he’s been an Alpha for like two minutes. I need Derek.”

The Sheriff cut him a hard glare.

“Discounting whatever you’re reading into that statement, Derek is a pureblood—he’s been a werewolf his entire life. Since Argent and Deaton are out of the picture, he knows more about the supernatural that anyone.”

Reluctantly, _hesitantly_ , his father relented.

 

“Why do we have to do this out here?” Jackson asked. “This place still creeps me the Hell out.”

Isaac placed a reassuring hand on his partner’s forearm. “Because the old Hale house is about as far enough removed from civilization as it gets in Beacon Hills while still being close enough for Sheriff Stilinski to get back to town if he gets a call. Besides, not that I would say it to Derek, but it’s not like Stiles could do much damage to the place in the shape it’s in.”

Derek scowled in the distance, causing Isaac to smile.

“Why not just chain him up?” the elder Stilinski asked. “Isn’t that what you said you guys did for Scott after he was first bitten?”

Stiles nodded. “Isaac, Erica, and Boyd, too. Even Jackson if you count handcuffing him in the back of the prisoner transport van,” he smiled.

Jackson glowered at him.

“We don’t know what Stiles is going to become,” Scott explained to his best friend’s father. “We don’t know if his size will change enough that the chains would hurt him… or if they would even work in the first place.”

It wasn’t lost on Stiles, or anyone else, that Derek was saying nothing. Sheriff Stilinski’s steady stream of daggers being shot the former Alpha’s way. Finally, Stiles had had enough. “What _precisely_ is your problem with him, Dad? Is it because I’m gay or whatever?”

The question elicited a response from both the pair of Isaac and Jackson and the pair of Brett and Liam (who were spending a great deal of time together, to the dismay of Mason, who still harbored an obvious crush on the former). All four werewolves stopped what they were doing and looked up, awaiting the Sheriff’s response.

“Of course not!” Stilinski immediately answered.

“Then what?” Stiles demanded.

“Do you honestly think I care if you love a boy or a girl?” the Sheriff asked incredulously.

Derek finally spoke. “It’s me, Stiles.”

Stiles scowled at him. “Don’t be stupid, Sour-Wolf.”

“He’s right,” Stilinski told the boy before addressing the elder pureblood. “You’re a good man, son, but even ignoring the age difference, the far bigger issue here is everyone around you dies. Can you tell me that won’t happen to him?”

Derek shook his head.

“This is insane!” Stiles yelled. “None of that was Derek’s fault!”

“He turned a bunch of teenagers and got most of them killed. And let’s not even talk about that homicidal uncle of his.”

Isaac was growing uncharacteristically angry. “We _asked_ for the bite! I was nearly killed by my own father while you and the rest of this town did _nothing_!” The accusation made Jackson wince, as he’d actually known what was going on. “Derek gave me the strength to get away. He took away Erica’s seizures. He gave Boyd purpose.”

“I gave Boyd death,” Derek spoke up. “Just as surely as I gave it to Erica. It just wasn’t my claws that did it.”

Isaac was incensed. “I was _there_. Kali killed Erica, but Erica went out on her terms… fighting. As for Boyd, the literal blood might have been on your claws, but it was on the twins’ hands.”

“I asked for the bite, too,” Jackson reminded them, trying to help. “I’m still alive.”

The Sheriff’s harsh countenance cause the fledgling True Alpha to back step. “But how many people aren’t because you were the Kanima?”

“Jackson turned into a Kanima because of _Jackson_ ,” Scott interjected, and the seemingly accusatory tone in the statement caused his old rival to turn away. He quickly followed up with more explanation. “But Matt was the murderer. I don’t care what color his eyes turned, Jackson wasn’t responsible for any of that, and neither was Derek.”

Liam cut. “Scott bit a teenager, too. Does that make him a monster as well? Because if he hadn’t, I would have died.”

“There’s a reason it’s called Beacon Hills,” Brett added. “The Nemeton has been drawing the supernatural to this area for centuries—long before Derek—and it will continue to do so long after he is gone, whether or not he and Stiles are together, particularly since its reawakening.”

Stilinski looked back at Derek. “Do you understand why I don’t want him with you?”

“I don’t!” Stiles shouted.

“I do,” Derek nodded.

The Sheriff calmed as he walked towards the werewolf. “Then why should I let him be with you?”

“You shouldn’t,” Derek said without pause. “I hope you won’t.”

That response took everyone by surprise. Derek continued, “I would rather Stiles be safer without me than to be a part of my life.”

Everyone was speechless. The Sheriff, though, seemed completely robbed of his vitriol. He stared into Derek’s eyes for an indeterminable time before he finally offered a gentle half-smile. “Will you keep him safe?”

“I can’t promise that, but I can promise that I’ll do everything in my power, including my own death, to try to protect him,” Derek pledged.

Stiles walked over to stand beside him. “We’ll protect each other.”

As if on cue, the moon crested high enough that Stiles’ body was racked with pain. When he was finally able to force his eyes open, the glowing blue eyes stood out pointedly against his new werewolf features. Everyone expected the spastic teen to succumb to the base impulses; instead, he simply reached over and took Derek’s hand in his, staying completely calm.

“I don’t understand,” the Sheriff admitted. “Not that I’m complaining, but why isn’t he losing control?”

The werewolves smiled at him. “Derek’s his anchor.”


	17. Nothing Gold Can Stay

Scott and Stiles were sitting there playing video games as they had done for most of their lives. It was a routine they had fallen into since long before their teen years. It had gotten them through the walking out of one’s father and the death of the other’s mother. It had gotten them through the toils and troubles of being at the bottom of the social pecking order. It had gotten them through one’s meteoric rise. There was the death of one’s first love. There was the departure of others. They looked like perfectly ordinary high school teenagers. It was hard to imagine that the pair were werewolves who had faced death on a routine basis. In recent months, though, Beacon Hills had been strangely quiet….

… Which was why Stiles was instantly suspicious.

“Okay, we’ve been at this for hours, and you haven’t said a single thing that wasn’t game-related. What _aren’t_ you telling me? You do realize I have the whole super-senses thing now, too, right?”

Scott paused the game and set his controller down. “How’s that going, anyway?”

“How’s that going?” Stiles repeated suspiciously. “I’m sitting here playing video games with my best friend, not wolfing out, which I haven’t done involuntarily since day one. I made it through my first full moon, then my second, and we’re bordering on a third, but I’m not concerned in the least. Even Derek’s at a loss to explain my degree of control, though I think it’s just a side effect of trying to keep my ADHD in check most of my life.”

Scott chuckled. “How’s _that_ going, by the way?”

Stiles kept staring at him like he had grown another head. “Well, since Adderall is fucking useless to me now—thanks, werewolf metabolism—I just have to think of it like wolfing out. If I can find my anchor, I can stay focused, and Stiles can actually concentrate on something for more than five seconds.”

“Derek?” Scott asked. “Thinking about him can calm you down that much?”

“Or get me horny as a fucking goat,” Stiles fired back. “What the Hell are you going on about, Scott? You seem evasive as all get out. I could practically hear your heartbeat from my house, so will you just say whatever it is that’s _really_ on your mind?”

Scott turned away, averting his gaze. “I’m leaving,” he said simply.

“Leaving…?” Stiles prodded, clearly more confused than ever.

“I’m leaving Beacon Hills for a while,” he explained.

Setting his own controller aside, Stiles, uncharacteristically calm, just stared at him. “What on Earth are you talking about? What do you mean you’re _leaving Beacon Hills_?”

“It’s been over two months since the Dread Doctors left, and we still haven’t heard a word from Deaton. I’m beginning to think he isn’t coming back,” Scott confessed, and the scent of worry almost overwhelmed Stiles’ senses.

“Okay, so we go all Werewolf Team Seven and go find him,” Stiles agreed. “I understand that. Braeden and Dad have both been tracking down leads on that score for a while now. Maybe one of them has something tangible we can follow up on.”

Scott shook his head. “No Werewolf Team Seven. I’m going lone wolf on this one.”

“Why?” Stiles demanded, the irritation in his voice doing little to mask the anger that Scott could smell wafting off of him.

“Because I’m not coming back,” he said quietly.

Stiles stood up and rose to his full height. He looked as though he might club his best friend over the head. “If you make me fish an explanation out of you one answer at a time, we’ll find out how werewolf healing handles my foot in your ass.”

“I’ve been talking to my Dad,” Scott began. “He really wants to try to patch things up with me, and I think I’m at a point in my life that I’m willing to let him. Besides, his FBI resources are probably my best chance of finding Deaton.”

When he heard the hesitation, Stiles glared at him. “I’m not even going to start on how bad of an idea that is or how much of a colossal douche your Dad is, but how are you going to explain, well, _anything_ to him?”

“I’m considering telling him the truth,” Scott almost winced, awaiting his best friend’s inevitable outburst.

Stiles could see the reaction Scott was expecting, and it defused much of his brewing ire. “Okay, I’m just not even going to comment on that one, because it’s your choice, but I can tell you’re still not laying all your cards out on the table. Will you fucking spill already?”

“My Dad was transferred to a new posting last month. It’s in New York.”

Stiles rolled his eyes so hard that they felt like they were going to fall out of his skull. “Kira? Seriously? This is all about Kira?”

“I still love her, Stiles. That hasn’t changed, and seeing all of you so happy in your relationships has only made me miss her that much more,” he confessed.

“So this is about me and Derek?” Stiles challenged. “I don’t have as much time to spend with you and you resent him or something?”

Scott seemed genuinely insulted. “NO!” he shouted. “Derek’s like a brother to me. Not like you, but still. I’m ecstatic that you two have found each other. Jackson and Isaac are so cute together, it’s almost nauseating, but in a good way. Even Liam and Brett seem to have a real connection. I thought it was just Brett’s support after Hayden, but it’s more than that. The antagonism they once shared actually reminds me of you and Derek back in the old days, come to think of it.”

The smile on the other boy’s face did nothing to lessen the sting for Stiles, who instantly went on the attack. “What about Liam? You made him! You’re his Alpha! Hell, you’re the _town_ ’s Alpha!”

“Jackson’s an Alpha now. He’s a True Alpha, just like me. He’ll watch out for Liam—and the rest of you—just like me. He loves you guys every bit as much as I do.”

Stiles could feel his eyes stinging. It was a good thing he did have such control, or the blurring of the lines between sadness and anger would have made the situation all the worse. “But he’s not you, Scotty,” Stiles sniffled, trying desperately not to loose the tears he were afraid would never end. “He’s not my best friend.”

“But he is your friend, and you have another best friend now who loves you more than anything,” Scott smiled.

Stiles found himself smiling in return, which both amused him and pissed him off. “What about your Mom?” he asked, trying one last, desperate gambit to get him to stay.

“Not thrilled about it, but she understands. She also knows that I’m eighteen and would be leaving for school in a few months anyway,” he told him. “I actually called in a favor on that front.”

Wiping his cheek, Stiles nodded. “What’s that?”

“It’s not from you. It’s from Derek,” Scott clarified. “I told Derek about my plans and asked if he would move in here to keep an eye on her. Since I’m assuming your Dad isn’t okay enough with you and him to live under the same roof.”

“God no,” Stiles grinned, but the mirth was short-lived. “Wait? Derek knew?”

Scott shook his head. “I just talked to him today. I asked him not to say anything until I talked to you first. Please don’t be mad at him. I just didn’t want Mom to be alone, and I think Derek could use a parental figure around to look out for him. I see how he is when he watches me and her or you and your Dad, and I think he’s missing his family more lately. The only ones he has left are either in South America or locked up in Eichen House.”

Stiles was chillingly silent for a while, processing everything. Scott knew how Stiles’ mind worked, so he merely sat there watching. Finally, Stiles spoke again after several moments. “When are you leaving? I get the impression you’re not sticking around until the end of the semester. The fall break?”

When Scott didn’t meet his gaze, Stiles knew the answer. “When?” he asked.

“Day after tomorrow.”


	18. The Gathering Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long delay = long chapter. Hope it's worth the wait!

Derek was slicing vegetables on the cutting board when Melissa came into the kitchen. “Derek, honey, you don’t have to do this. I just need to grab a shower real quick, and then I can start cooking.”

“Don’t be silly,” the pureblood smiled at her. “You just came off of a twelve-hour shift. I got this.”

She pursed her lips at him. “When I told Scott you could move in here, I didn’t expect a full-time chef.”

He shrugged with a grin. “I like cooking. Besides, it makes me feel like I’m helping out around here.”

“You’re paying enough rent—despite my protests—that I don’t have to keep up a second job or overtime in order to make the mortgage payment, so I’d say you’re more than helping out,” she scolded him.

He chuckled at that. “I still have plenty of money left over, despite the dead pool. It’s not like I’m struggling. Hell, it’s not like I even have a job, so let me cook. Besides, I need something to do while Stiles is in school all day.”

“Cooking a meal is one thing, but we’re talking Thanksgiving dinner,” she pointed out.

“Which you’re hosting for _my_ pack—well, Jackson’s, technically.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “All of whom are Scott’s friends. This wouldn’t have anything to do with being nice to me because it’s my first holiday where I won’t get to see him, is it?”

Derek halted his movements. _Busted_. “Maybe a little.”

“And maybe you’re trying to impress a certain guy—and his father—while you’re at it?”

His face flushed with embarrassment. “Yeah. I’ve gone from being the loner who didn’t give a shit what people thought about him to some awkward teenaged boy trying to get his boyfriend’s father to like him.”

She smiled at him. “First off, language. Secondly, you do realize that you don’t have to try so hard, right? As a parent, I can tell you that as long as you make our kids happy, you’re halfway there. I want to be so mad at Kira and her parents because Scott’s not here with me, but those two love one another enough that I just can’t.”

“Yeah, Kira didn’t turn Scott into a hunted monster.”

“No, your Uncle did that, but Stiles—like Scott—is a werewolf, not a monster. I’ve been around all of you boys long enough to recognize the difference. Besides, technically, it was Jackson that turned Stiles,” she reminded him.

Derek nodded solemnly. “But it was a position he probably wouldn’t have been if it weren’t for me. Besides, my feeling guilty is how I try to take some of the burden off Jackson. He still blames himself.”

“Both of which are equally stupid. Jackson saved his life. Stiles’ father knows that. He doesn’t blame him… or you.”

“Are you so sure? The Sheriff barely talks to me _or_ Stiles. Hell, neither of us really even sees him these days. If it weren’t for the overwhelming stench of the cologne he puts on before he comes to see you…,” Derek’s words trailed off and his face cheeks burned crimson. “Sorry. The smell is pretty rough on the werewolf senses.”

Melissa burst out laughing. “It’s pretty rough on the human ones as well. Thank God! I thought it was just me, but that stuff is like a stinky sledgehammer.”

Derek roared with laughter. Once both had regained their composure, she continued. “He likes you, Derek. He doesn’t show it because that’s not really his way, but I hear him talk about you. Trust me, aside from the knee-jerk reaction after Stiles was turned, he’s genuinely happy you two are together. He’s still shorthanded, for one, with Parrish gone. He’s convinced Jordan is going to come back any day now, so he won’t fill the spot.”

“I hope so,” the werewolf confessed, “but at the same time, Parrish complicated things in a lot of ways.”

Melissa scrutinized his face again. “A lot of ways… or one?”

Derek averted his eyes. “Mostly just the one.”

“Were you two…?”

“No,” Derek was quick to answer with a head-shake. “We kissed, and there was an attraction there.”

She nodded. “I can certainly understand why. Just look at the two of you.”

For the third time in the span of minutes, the tops of Derek’s ears felt like they were on fire. “I admit, there’s something about him, but he’s not the one I’m in love with.”

“Oh, I know that, honey,” she grinned. “I’ve known that longer than you, and so has his father. And both of us are impressed at your, um, _restraint_.”

Derek couldn’t even face her. “You know about that, huh?”

Melissa placed a hand on his arm. “Stop being embarrassed. Stiles told his Dad. I think it’s sweet that you two aren’t going to take your relationship to the next level until after graduation. My own son couldn’t keep it in his pants at fifteen.”

“I want him to finish his senior year and all that that entails. Part of that may be meeting someone else, and I don’t want to stand in his way if he does,” the werewolf explained.

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” she told him. “He’s as crazy about you as you are him.”

Derek smiled at the reassurance. “Speak of the Devil, his Jeep just turned the corner at the end of the block.”

Melissa quirked an eyebrow at him. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that. It’s kind of creepy.”

“I heard that,” Stiles called from the door as he walked in a few moments later. He walked into the kitchen with several sacks full of groceries. He kissed her cheek. “Happy Thanksgiving, Mama McCall.”

Melissa smiled and took the sacks from him, one by one. “What is with you two? Are you planning to feed an army? Derek already bought out half of the grocery store and won’t let me help.”

“It’s you and Dad and six werewolves, five of whom are teenagers. This might not be enough,” Stiles grinned as he moved behind Derek and wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist, burying his nose in his hair. “Besides, I’m going to help him.”

Derek just smiled as he continued his preparations. “I’m not sure how much _help_ this one’s going to be,” the pureblood chuckled. The hot breath on the back of his neck caused him to shudder slightly, closing his eyes long enough to accidentally run the chopping knife across his hand.

The nurse in Melissa sprang into action, taking the blade and pulling Derek’s hand under the water. “It’s okay, Melissa,” Derek assured her, and true to his word, the flesh was already knitting itself back together.

“Okay, maybe I am glad you guys are doing the cooking after all,” she shook her head.

Stiles ran his hand down Derek’s arm and interlocked their fingers, the younger boy’s callouses rubbing the freshly healed skin as he rested his chin on Derek’s shoulder. “All this, and he can cook,” Stiles smiled.

“Funny,” Derek rolled his eyes. “I seriously don’t mind, Melissa. This is the first real attempt at a family gathering I’ve had in like ten years. I’ve missed it.”

Melissa raised her hands in defeat. “I yield. I’m going to go shower, maybe grab a quick power nap, and let you two have your fun… cooking. I’m just glad I don’t have werewolf hearing,” she teased, disappearing down the hall.

“You’re _not_ helping,” Derek growled.

“Depends on what it is you think I’m trying to help,” Stiles purred into his boyfriend’s ear, grinding his hips against the muscled ass of the pureblood.

It had the desired effect, and Derek was suddenly very aware of how much smaller the space between his crotch and the countertop had just become. “ _Stiles_.”

“Mmm?” Stiles mumbled as he began tugged on Derek’s earlobe with his teeth.

Derek spun around, grabbed Stiles by the hips, and lifted him onto the counter next to him. “ _You_ stop that. You know that goes against the ground rules we’ve established.”

“The ground rules _you_ established, you mean,” Stiles smiled. “I plan on doing everything I can to get into your pants long before six months have passed. I’m a teenager, and I’m horny all the time.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think I know that? Your arousal smells like a strip club.”

“And how, exactly, would you know that?” Stiles asked, one eyebrow cocked curiously.

“How do you think?” Derek grumbled, his brow furrowed.

Stiles shrugged. “Have you _seen_ you? Why on Earth would you need to go to a strip club?”

“No one _needs_ to go to a strip club,” Derek pointed out, shoving the cookbook into Stiles’ hands.

“And you’re being strangely evasive,” the younger boy fired back. “Are you hiding something?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“That’s not an answer. Say ‘I’m not hiding anything’,” Stiles told him.

Derek stopped what he was doing. “Will you drop it?”

Stiles chuckled. “Have you _met_ me?”

“Fine, but if I see so much as a smile, smirk, or sneer, I’m going to rip your throat out….”

“With your teeth,” Stiles cut in. “Yeah, yeah. Spill, Sourwolf.”

Derek glared at Stiles’ nickname for him, though—and he would never tell the boy—he’d become quite fond of it. “It took a long time for Paige to warm up to me. I went from the confident basketball jock to the insecure hormonal teenager before ….”

Stiles nodded, as if to say he didn’t need to finish. He’d almost laughed, again, at the image of Derek playing basketball, but the discussion of Paige robbed him of his mirth. He knew how sensitive of a topic that was. It had actually been Peter, not Derek, who had first told Stiles the tale of the girl whose death had turned Derek’s eyes blue.

“Anyway,” Derek digressed, focusing on his breathing to continue. “After Paige came….”

“Kate,” Stiles finished for him.

Derek glowered at him. “Who’s telling this story?”

Stiles made a motion like he was zipping his mouth shut, though both of them knew how long that was going to last.

“After Kate, my family was gone, and I moved to New York for a while,” the pureblood recounted. “My self-esteem was nonexistent. Fake ID in hand, I wandered into a bar to drink my troubles away, not realizing how difficult that would prove, and come to find out, it was a strip club.”

Stiles couldn’t help but interrupt. “Did the women with the pasties and G-strings not clue you in?”

Derek hesitated, so Stiles became uncharacteristically speechless… for about two seconds. “It was a _male_ strip club?”

“Yeah,” Derek nodded. “A gay strip club.”

To keep from smiling, Stiles bit his lower lip so hard that he could taste the iron in the blood trickling into his mouth. Derek noticed, but since Stiles was keeping his end of the bargain by not laughing, he kept going. “I was approached by more than a few guys, and they kept buying me drinks, enough that I eventually felt it, even if I didn’t get drunk. I could smell their attraction to me, though, and I was starting to feel it in return. It felt good to be wanted.”

By now, Stiles was genuinely curious as to the end of the story. “What happened?” he asked, no amusement in his tone.

“It all went to my head, so when the owner asked me if I wanted to go on stage….”

Stiles jaw fell open wide. “No way….”

Derek nodded. “So for one night, I was a male stripper.”

“I _so_ did not need to know that,” Jackson said from the door.

Isaac was all smiles. “I don’t know, I’ve got a mental image in my head now, and it’s a pretty nice one.”

Derek sighed and began rubbing the bridge of his nose. It made Stiles smile, because he’d seen that same display of exasperation on his father his entire life. For once, though, Stiles wasn’t the cause. Derek silently cursed himself for being so engrossed that he hadn’t heard Jackson and Isaac’s approach or entrance.

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance I can get you guys to never mention this again, is there?” Derek asked hopefully.

“Mention what?” Melissa asked, walking in while still drying her hair with a towel.

Jackson was the first to respond. “Nothing… absolutely nothing.”

Isaac, still grinning broadly, opened his mouth to speak, and Jackson’s eyes grew red in warning. Isaac closed his mouth. “Okay, you can be the big, bad Alpha out here, but when we get home….”

“Don’t even _think_ about finishing that statement,” Jackson warned with a patented glare that was worthy of Derek, though the faintest hint of a smile was on his lips.

“Okay,” Melissa said uncertainly.

Stiles smiled at her. “Really, it’s nothing, Melissa.” He leaned in close to Derek and whispered so low that even the other bitten werewolves would have trouble hearing. “I’ll never mention it in public if I get a private show sometime.”

Derek blushed—yet again—but the prospect was also arousing him. He went back to cooking and tried to ignore the distraction. “I didn’t hear you guys come in,” he said to the pair.

“Obviously,” Isaac chuckled, eliciting another scowl from both Derek and Jackson.

Jackson rolled up his sleeves and moved next to his former Alpha. “We walked. Both of us got into a habit of that and taking public transit when we were in Europe. It’s a nice day out, anyway,” the True Alpha explained. “What can I do to help?”

“Get those two and their stupid grins out of the kitchen,” Derek almost laughed.

“You heard the man,” Jackson told them.

Isaac whined, “But all the fun is in here.”

Jackson’s eyes glowed red again. “Go watch a football game or something.”

“You’re boyfriend’s a buzzkill,” Stiles pouted.

“Now you know what it was like with bossy Derek,” Isaac countered.

Stiles snorted as he led Isaac into the living room. “You think Derek needs red eyes to be bossy?”

“That could be fun,” Isaac grinned.

“I wouldn’t know,” Stiles shouted from the other room.

Jackson rolled his eyes. “You know we can hear you just fine without the extra volume, right?”

Apparently satisfied, Stiles didn’t even respond, and after a few moments, Alpha and former Alpha could hear the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade on the television in the other room.

“Thanks,” Derek offered.

Jackson was genuinely confused. “For?”

“For not making that little story worse than it already was.”

Jackson shrugged. “We all have our pasts—some a little more bloody than embarrassing. If you going all Magic Mike is your worst, I think you’re doing alright.”

Derek was quiet for a while. “You and I both know I’ve done far worse than that, some of it to you. You didn’t deserve it, and I’m sorry.”

“The holidays are making you all sentimental,” Jackson smiled softly. “That’s water under a very distant bridge. I deserved a lot of it… hell, _most_ of it. But how about you and I both finally quit living in the past? For the first time in my life, I actually like myself, and seeing Stiles healthy and happy with you is a big part of that.”

Derek had to stop and just stare at his former Beta. “You really are nothing like you used to be,” he commented. “I like the new you, too.”

Jackson shifted uncomfortably at the praise. “Can we skip the mutual admiration society and get some food cooked? It won’t be too long before everyone else gets here.”

Derek smiled and nodded.

 

It was a few hours later when the doorbell rang. Derek didn’t have to use heightened senses to figure out who it was. Few people actually knocked or even announced themselves before simply walking into the McCall house, something that started with Stiles having his own key made, but the home had become something of a pack hangout after Scott’s mother learned the truth. Stiles was already here, as were Isaac and Jackson. The Sheriff and Melissa had become increasingly serious, so he came and went fairly regularly. That left Brett and Liam.

Derek stopped cooking long enough to walk into the other room to say hello—and to check on Isaac and Stiles, both of whom had been strangely quiet. Stiles was sitting “Indian-style”, elbows on his knees, and chin resting on his fists. “Come in!” he shouted, clearly engrossed in the parade, which was currently boasting several floats with video game characters. _I should have known._

When the doorbell rang again, Derek began to wonder who it might be after all, but then he glanced over and realized it was locked. Isaac must have locked it, a holdover from his days of living here after Derek threw him out in a weak effort to protect him. Isaac, who was fast asleep on the couch, periodically shifting and slightly whining in the throes of a nightmare, it seemed. Derek walked over and placed his hand on the boy’s forehead to help settle him. Isaac, who, until Jackson came back from London as the man he was now, was the only thing Derek felt he did right at that point in his life he was an Alpha.

When the doorbell rang a third time, Derek heard Jackson behind him. “Does somebody that _doesn’t_ live here need to get it?” he smiled, watching his former Alpha with his boyfriend. Derek returned the smile and slid past the Stiles, who he now suspected was asleep with his eyes open.

Jackson moved to take a seat next to Isaac on the edge of the couch. He brushed his fingers through Isaac’s hair and pressed his lips to his cheek. “You’re okay, babe. It’s just a nightmare. You’re safe here with me, and I won’t let anything happen to you,” he whispered softly, and Isaac instantly calmed.

Behind the door were Brett and Liam. Brett was still technically a part of Satomi’s pack, and because of that, he was far more reserved than first impressions might have otherwise anticipated. The near-deaths of himself and his sister had made him feel as loyal to Scott and his pack as his own Alpha. Liam was more familiar in his behavior, but nothing to the extent of the other wolves—particularly Stiles. “No Mason still?” Derek asked Liam sympathetically. The young Beta and his best friend had been on the outs since shortly after Hayden’s death… since he and Brett had started getting so close.

Liam shook his head. “He still blames me for, as he says, ‘Taking the hottest gay werewolf in town’ away from him.” That remark drew skeptical eyebrows from several _other_ werewolves in the room, and Liam rolled his eyes while Brett simultaneously blushed and laughed. “Okay, the hottest gay _single_ werewolf in town.”

“For the record,” Brett chimed in, “I’m bi, if that will help.”

“Pretty sure it won’t,” Liam assured him.

Stiles’ face registered concern. He knew how hard it was when you and your best friend weren’t speaking. He was about to ask how he was doing, but Jackson beat him to the punch. “Are you okay?” he asked. In the time since Scott had left, Liam had transferred much of those Beta feelings to the new Alpha, and in many ways, Jackson’s flawed past had made him almost more approachable in that regard. The youngest werewolf had initially been angry (big surprise), but he had settled into the new dynamics without too much time or difficulty.

Liam nodded halfheartedly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t need werewolf hearing to call bullshit on that one,” Isaac remarked.

“Language!” Melissa called from the kitchen.

Everyone else had pretty well ignored the comment, but Derek saw Liam’s reaction to it. Apparently, Jackson did as well. Before Derek had a chance to say anything, the Alpha had walked over, placed a hand on the young Beta’s shoulder, and led him to the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Derek was watching Brett. Outside of his element—the lacrosse field, his friends, or a dance club where everyone wanting to take him home—he was actually pretty shy. It was understandable, given that he was the newcomer. Everyone else had history that he wasn’t a part of. He had only known Liam a year ago. Derek saw that Jackson was about to talk to Liam in the kitchen, so he walked over and took the remote from Stiles. He turned the volume up louder. “Anyone eavesdrops, and….”

“You’ll rip our throats out with your teeth. Yeah, yeah, we got it,” Stiles grumbled. Derek smiled. “You don’t scare me, Der-Bear.”

Derek’s smile was replaced by the furrowed brow of a scowl and a low, guttural growl in his throat. He turned and joined the Alpha and Beta at the kitchen table. “What’s going on?” Jackson asked.

“I just don’t know,” Liam stammered.

“Don’t know what?” Derek prodded.

Liam’s eyes danced furtively between the pair. Jackson gave him a reassuring smile. “You can talk to us. That’s what we’re here for.”

“I don’t know how I feel…,” he began, his voice trailing off.

“About Brett?” Jackson speculated. Liam nodded.

Derek was trying to make sure he had a clear picture. “So you guys?”

“Just friends right now.”

“Do you want to be more?” Jackson asked.

Liam shrugged. “I feel like I should have an answer for that—like I should know what I want. It seems so easy for you guys, like you’re so sure.”

Both of the other werewolves couldn’t help but chuckle, and Liam’s face turned red with embarrassment and anger. Derek was quick to place his hand on the boy’s forearm. “Don’t for a second think that we’re laughing at you. We’re laughing at that statement.”

“Why?” the young Beta asked.

“Because Derek and I are idiots,” Jackson smiled. “It’s taken him years to realize how he felt about Stiles, with a little help from his friends.”

Derek nodded. “And like me, everything about Isaac drove Jackson insane. It took time and perspective to figure out that those feelings were attraction.”

Liam looked down at his hands. “But what if I decide I don’t want to be more than friends with him?”

“Then we’re just friends,” Brett said calmly from the doorframe.

“I think we’ll leave you two to talk,” Derek smiled as he and Jackson went into the living room. The elder pureblood felt a certain kinship with the younger, though Brett seemed far more self-assured in his teens than Derek was in his twenties. Still, without Cora around, it was nice to have that connection that no matter how hard the others tried, they could never truly understand.

The Alpha moved to the couch, urging his boyfriend up from where he was laying. Once he took a seat, he settled Isaac’s head onto his lap and ran his fingers through the wavy curls. Within seconds, Isaac was fast asleep.

Derek, meanwhile, settled in behind Stiles, his legs on either side of the smaller boy. Stiles wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s calves and eased back against the larger man’s chest, craning his neck back to steal a kiss before turning his attentions back to the television.

Everyone was quiet when Brett and Liam returned a while later. Both took seats on the floor next to Jackson, though whether that was for some proximity to the Alpha or simply for vantage point was unclear, likely to them as well. When Jackson looked down, he noticed the pair had interlocked their fingers. It wasn’t necessarily a romantic gesture, but nor was it entirely platonic. He was genuinely curious how that particular pair would define their relationship in the days ahead.

 

All of the werewolves were fast asleep when Sheriff Stilinski arrived. Melissa was finishing the final preparations as he placed a hand first on his son’s shoulder and then on the shoulder of the man sitting behind him. He smiled before he walked into the kitchen and kissed the cheek of the woman he found there. “Hey,” he smiled.

The smile was infectious, because she returned it instantly and more broadly. “Hey,” she greeted. “Go give them a wake-up call. It’s time for dinner.”

As everyone sat down to eat, it was a typical family scene—with a very _atypical_ family. The conversations that transpired were those that could be had around any table… this one just happened to be surrounded by mostly werewolves. After a while, Liam and Brett excused themselves. The former had Thanksgiving dinner plans with his mother and stepfather after he got off-shift. The latter had made plans to join his sister with Satomi and the pack.

Isaac had no family anymore. Both parents were dead, as was his brother. Jackson came and went as he pleased, but he cared about his adoptive parents enough to agree to dinner, his boyfriend in tow.

That left Derek and Stiles, his father and Melissa. When Derek started to do the dishes, Melissa was quick to force everyone out. “Don’t think we’re going back to the Fifties, but since you did the cooking, the least I can do is clean up.”

Not needing to be told twice, the Sheriff slid into the recliner and turned on the game. Derek and his son were sprawled out on the floor, Stiles cradled against the pureblood’s shoulder. When the doorbell rang again, Derek’s eyebrows went up, but he was so relaxed that his eyelids remained shut. Stiles opened his own eyes to see his father getting up to answer it.

When Sheriff Stilinski opened the door, there stood Lydia Martin with a pie. “Hiya, Lyds!” Stiles waved without raising his head.

“Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I came home for break and my Mom just wanted me to bring by….” Her words faded, and her face palled. She was just staring at the Sheriff.

That got Stiles’ attention. He sat up, which, in turn, roused Derek. “Lydia, what is it?” he asked.

The Sheriff looked between the banshee and his son and sighed. “Hell,” he cursed. “I was hoping for a better time to tell you this, but I guess it might as well be now… I’m dying.”


	19. Unhappy Holidays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update. Pesky real-life :)

“What do you mean, _dying_?” Stiles repeated. Derek was at his side in an instant, his hands upon his shoulders to steady him.

Derek wondered if Melissa knew, but the expression of utter shock on her face told him the answer. She was just as clueless as the rest of him. She looked tortured, unable to decide whether she should be mad at him for hiding something so important or run to him to embrace him. After her initial reticence, she opted for the latter, the tears on her cheeks evident and continuous.

Lydia covered her mouth, her own eyes moistening. “I’m so sorry, Sheriff. I didn’t mean to… it just caught me by surprise.”

“It’s fine, Lydia,” he smiled at her sympathetically. “I planned on telling them in my own time anyway. I’ve just been a chicken shit and putting it off for a few months now. I was going to wait until after the holidays, but I didn’t think about you possibly coming home before then. I really should have.”

Derek understood why the Sheriff hadn’t told them. He also understood why Stiles was shaking in his arms. “The cologne,” he said simply. “To cover the scent so we wouldn’t smell it. Cancer?”

“Pancreatic,” he nodded. He kept staring at his son, waiting for Stiles to say something. The boy was more silent than he’d been since he said his first words.

“How far…,” Derek began, his own words trailing off when they failed him. He wanted to know how far along the disease was. What was the prognosis? Actually, he knew that answer. The prognosis for pancreatic cancer was poor. Derek’s medical knowledge was almost nonexistent. After all, healthcare was hardly a focal point for one who could regenerate. Even still, he knew about pancreatic cancer. The survival rate was next to nothing. He hugged Stiles tighter against him.

The Sheriff nodded again. He clearly understood what Derek was asking. “It’s stage 3. Without treatment, I’d have about two months. I’ve been undergoing chemotherapy for about a month now. They say that gives me about three months now. They’re hoping it will shrink enough that I can have surgery. If they can do something called a Whipple, my odds jump to about forty percent as far as five-year survival rate.”

The way his father was talking—so clinical—meant he had time to find some sort of peace or at least understanding with this. “How long?” Stiles finally managed.

“Like I said, about a month now,” the Sheriff repeated.

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU KNOWN?” Stiles demanded in a shout so guttural that Derek recoiled, as though Lydia had unleashed one of supernatural screams. The anger was palpable, and no one dared speak, lest they risk the boy’s wrath. “I know you. You would deny it. You would argue. Then you would stall and delay, just like you did with telling me.”

“Stiles…,” his father began, reaching out for him.

“HOW LONG?” Stiles yelled.

The Sheriff withdrew his hand, intertwining it with Melissa’s, who was now standing next to him. “Six months,” he said quietly.

Stiles was seething. Derek could smell the rage that was barely contained below the surface. As much as he wanted to come to the defense of the father of the man he loved, he knew that anything, the slightest _word_ , could set him off. The Pureblood just inched closer, trying to use his own heartrate to help calm him. He hoped his presence would help defuse at least some of this anger. “And what stage was it when you found out?”

His father’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Stage one.”

“Lydia, what’s the _real_ five year survival rate of stage three pancreatic cancer?” Stiles demanded in an icy voice. The banshee shook her head, not wanting to be dragged into the middle of this uncomfortable, _volatile_ situation. She shook with fear when he shouted again. “WHAT IS IT?”

She trembled so hard her voice cracked. “Three percent.”

“And at stage one?” he asked the genius.

She shook her head again, but the Sheriff smiled at her. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Just tell him what he wants to know,” he assured her, squeezing Melissa’s hand.

“Fourteen percent for 1A. Twelve percent for 1B, but the overall five-year survival rate isn’t that diff…,” she began, trying to offer something—anything—to help defuse this situation, but the glare it earned her from Stiles stopped her words cold.

Stiles stood there, silent. Everyone else followed his lead, waiting for him to make the first move. Finally, he just nodded. “Okay, so we’ll just get Sc… Jackson,” he corrected, remembering that his best friend wasn’t around. “We’ll get Jackson to give him the Bite. Werewolves can’t die of cancer.”

“He can’t,” Derek said, and just like that, Stiles tore himself out of the older werewolf’s grasp. The mask of rage he now wore was far more intense than the one he’d shown to his father only moments before. It was enough that the Pureblood had to fight the urge to recoil.

“What do you mean _he can’t_?” Stiles demanded.

Derek held up a hand in a feeble attempt to assuage the boy’s anger, or at least placate it. “Stiles, just listen to me… _please_.” If it had been anyone else, the gesture might have only pissed him off more. Instead, it got him to be quiet and clench his jaw. He nodded, which Derek took as his invitation to continue. “There’s no guarantee that anyone can survive the Bite, but in his current state, I can guarantee that he wouldn’t. It’s too far advanced. You can smell it.”

Stiles tore his gaze away from Derek and fixed it back upon his father. “Was this your plan all along? Wait until you were too sick for it to even be an option?”

When the Sheriff didn’t immediately respond, Stiles had his answer. Seeing the hurt and disappointment in his son’s eyes, the Sheriff rolled his own. “Crap,” he grumbled. “I wanted to do this _my_ way… on _my_ terms. I have faith in modern medicine. If it doesn’t work—if it’s my time—then it’s my time. I came in this world human, and I want to go out that way. The supernatural? That’s your world, not mine.”

“So you’d rather die in your world than live in ours?” Stiles demanded. He started for the door, and when Derek tried to stop him, the younger werewolf wheeled on him with hatred in his eyes and a finger raised in warning. “DON’T!”

Derek stepped back. He knew better than to push. Like the Sheriff and Melissa, all he could do was watch Stiles go.

 

Lydia looked on the verge of tears when she hugged Melissa. “Mama McCall” buried her nose into the banshee’s hair and led her to the kitchen. The Sheriff and the werewolf just stared at one another for a moment. Finally, Derek reached out and placed his hand upon Stilinski’s forearm. After a few seconds, the black streaks coursed through the younger man’s veins. “I assumed that if you were that far along, the pain must be pretty bad, no matter how much you’re hiding it from Stiles,” Derek told him.

“Thank you, son,” the Sheriff smiled at him, sympathetic and grateful. Motioning to the recliners, he took a seat, indicating for the other man to do the same.

Derek sat, leaning forward. “Is there anything I can do for you, Sheriff?”

“You’re doing it,” he smiled. “You’re taking care of my boy. He’s going to need someone to do that when I’m gone.”

A pained expression took hold of Derek’s face. “You’re going to be fine, Sheriff.”

The older man chuckled. “You do know I don’t need werewolf senses to tell that’s a lie, right? Besides, I knew what I was doing. I’ve been without my wife for a long time now, Derek. The one thing that kept me going was Stiles,” he began. “He’s not a kid anymore, though. Instead of me taking care of him, he’s spent most of his life after Claudia taking care of me. Now, he’s a man. He’s got a family and friends that will be here for him long after I’m gone.”

“Ironically,” the Sheriff smiled, “you’re the reason I have the courage to do this now. I see how much you love him. I know that you would do anything to protect him. I couldn’t ask for better hands to leave him in.”

Derek half-smiled in return. “For the love of God, please don’t tell Stiles that. He’ll either blame me or kill me.”

 

 _“You sure you didn’t have anything specific you wanted to talk about?”_ Scott asked.

“No,” Stiles said into the phone, plastering a smile onto his face to try to keep his voice even. “Just wanted to call my best friend on Thanksgiving.”

_“You sound like something’s bothering you. You sure I don’t need to come home?”_

“Nah, I’m good, man. Just missing you is all,” Stiles lied. “You keep doing your thing with Kira and your Dad and looking for Deaton. If you find him, I got some questions for him.”

_“Will do, bro. It was good talking to you. I already talked with Mom this morning, but tell your Dad Happy Thanksgiving.”_

“Okay,” Stiles smiled, trying to fight back the tears that he felt threatening to emerge at any moment. He hung up the phone and wrapped his arms around his knees, hugging them close to his chest. He started sobbing so hard that he initially didn’t hear someone approaching. When he did, he sprang to his feet, ready to sprout fangs and claws.

It was Jackson. He just stared at Stiles with a pained look. “I got here as soon as I could.”

Stiles wiped his cheek. “How did you know?”

“Lydia texted me, but I was already on my way to you. I didn’t know the specifics, but I could feel it. It was like someone had stabbed me in the heart,” the Alpha told him softly. He walked over to his Beta and wrapped his arms around him. “I’m so sorry, Stiles.”

Stiles collapsed into Jackson’s arms, his legs giving out beneath him. He wept into Jackson’s shoulder, tugging at his collar like it was a lifeline.


	20. Something Old, Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter. Thanks for coming along with me on this ride, and Happy New Year's!

**_FEBRUARY_ **

The cemetery was still surprisingly cold. Admittedly, it was still _technically_ winter, but by this point in February, Northern California was usually already beginning to warm up to temperatures more reminiscent of spring. The chilling undercurrent of a beginning rain drizzle only served to make it worse. Stiles shuddered involuntarily, and Derek was instantly behind him, enfolding his arms around him to keep him more comfortable. Stiles had once thought the extra body heat was a werewolf thing, and to some degree, that was true, but Scott and the others didn’t come close to the warmth that Derek provided. The thought almost made Stiles chuckle, but the somber circumstance and atmosphere allowed him to suppress his inappropriate instincts. He briefly wondered if it had something to do with being a pureblood werewolf—born instead of bitten—but glancing over, he saw Brett shiver. Liam intertwined his fingers with the taller boy, making Stiles smile despite the prevailing mood. In the last few months, it seemed as though that particular pair had finally decided where they stood with one another.

 

**_EARLY DECEMBER_ **

“Thanks, Doc,” the Sheriff told Geyer as Melissa checked the infusion. Liam was contemplating telling his stepfather about everything, but Jackson had convinced him that they could support Stiles and his father through this without _having_ to fill the doctor in. The Alpha told him that the choice to reveal the supernatural to his family was Liam’s and Liam’s alone, but he wanted him to do it in his own time and his own way. That being the case, though, Liam still convinced the emergency room physician to oversee Stilinski’s care, consulting with the local oncologists   In the desperate hope that they found Deaton or some other way, Liam wanted to make sure that someone they could trust would be there to cover their tracks.

Dr. Geyer still didn’t understand any of this, but he went along with it nonetheless, nodding at the Sheriff. “I’ll check in on you later.”

Stiles reached towards the spot where the strange, angled needle was inserted into his father’s chest. Melissa had called it a Huber needle. “Don’t mess with it too much,” she told him with a grin. “It’s pretty secure in there, but I’ve never checked the resistance of a portacath to the strength of an overly curious, hyperactive werewolf.”

“Does it hurt?” Stiles asked his father.

The Sheriff shook his head. “Not a bit, kiddo. It looks funny, but it’s stuck into that metal thing they put in my chest a few weeks ago, remember?”

Stiles nodded nervously, biting at his fingernails. Derek, who had stood quietly out of the way, reached over and pushed the teen’s hand away from his mouth. “Yes, I know fingernails grow back—especially ours—but it’s still a nasty habit, particularly when you’re wanting to get all handsy with a cancer patient.”

Stiles glowered at him, but Derek just scowled back. “Your Dad wants you to quit, and I intend to see that you do,” he growled.

“Pop?” Stiles asked, feigning hurt.

The Sheriff smiled. “Your mother got me to quit doing it. I figured getting the love of your life to work on it was my best chance to make sure you stopped, too.”

“You’re probably right,” Stiles turned to look at Derek, who blushed in response. He turned to look at Stilinski, who nodded.

The big, bad former Alpha looked like he was about to pass out from nerves. His hand was still over Stiles’ when he nearly choked, croaking out the words. “Stiles, I want to ask you something….”

Melissa was charting something when she looked up. “Do I need to step out?” she asked.

The Sheriff shook his head. “No. You’re family. You should be here for this.”

“For what?” Stiles asked, obviously confused.

Derek was stammering. It took him five tries before he finally gave up and got down on one knee. He pulled a small box from his pocket. Opening it up, it revealed a wedding band. Melissa smiled and pressed her hands together as she quietly looked on. “This was my father’s. My mother had taken it to be resized a few days before the fire. I’ve been carrying it around with me ever since.”

Stiles reached into the velvet where the ring rested. Taking it between his fingers, he stared at it incredulously. “What’s this?” he asked uncertainly.

“It’s a ring,” the Sheriff deadpanned.

Stiles cut a hard glare towards his father. “I _know_ that. What does it mean?”

Derek was sweating. “It’s a proposal. I love you, Stiles. I love you, and I want to marry you.”

Stiles opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Derek was holding his breath to the point that his next question came out pained. “Stiles, will you marry me?”

“I don’t understand,” Stiles admitted, still blankly staring at the ring. Shaking it off, he explained. “I thought you didn’t want to take our relationship to the next level… I mean physically. And now you want to _marry_ me?”

Derek nodded. “I know I want to be with you. I just wanted _you_ to be sure. I wanted to give you time to decide.”

“So what changed?” he asked, and he caught the subtle shift of Derek’s gaze towards his father. “Because he’s _dying_?”

The Sheriff quickly interjected. “Don’t jump all over him. It was partly my idea.”

“Partly _your_ idea for my boyfriend to propose?” he hissed. He threw the ring at Derek, who awkwardly tried to catch it before it bounced off his chest and rolled under the bed. “So let’s distract Stiles from his father dying by proposing.”

Derek stood to try to defend himself, but before a single word was uttered, Stiles had shoved him back with enough preternatural strength that he was lifted off of his feet and thrown across the room, denting the wall.

“Stiles!” the Sheriff called.

 

**_EARLY JANUARY_ **

“I still can’t believe you’re getting married,” Alpha said to his former Alpha.

Derek nodded. “I almost didn’t. Remember? Stiles didn’t even speak to me until Christmas. Every time I said his name, he would growl at me… literally. His father didn’t fare much better. Unless it was directly connected to the Sheriff’s care, Stiles all but ignored him.”

Isaac cocked one querying eyebrow. “And I still can’t believe he was that pissed.”

“Beyond. And I can’t say as that I really blame him. I changed the rules on him, and Stiles is smart—smarter than all of us aside from Lydia. He knows it’s because his father probably isn’t going to survive. The Sheriff wants to see him get married before the cancer claims him, and I wanted to grant a dying man his wish,” Derek said somberly, and Isaac was certain that for a half-second, he saw the brooding, scowling pureblood starting to tear up. Derek seemed to notice, so he smiled to make light of things. “Besides, it’s not as if I’m getting nothing out of this. I get to be with the man I love.”

“That is so sweet… so _nauseatingly_ sweet,” Isaac chuckled. “I told you that whole waiting for his senior year to be over was a waste of time. Even when Stiles is furious at you, it’s obvious how much he loves you.”

Derek smiled. “I just didn’t want to ruin his life by dragging him into my world.”

Isaac shook his head. “First off, you didn’t. Technically, that was Peter when he bit Scott,” he pointed out. “But more to the point, did you ever think that maybe he’s saving your life by dragging you into his? You have friends and family now. Some of us are even willing to put on these monkey suits for you guys,” he grinned as he walked over to tie a double Windsor knot for the fumbling elder werewolf. “We kind of love you guys, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Derek could only smile at him, dumbstruck by the boy’s devotion and keen observation. He had bitten Isaac—as he had Jackson, Erica, and Boyd—in a bid to amass power as an Alpha. Two of them had paid the ultimate price for his failure in that role. The remaining two had become his best friends… well, aside from the young man he was about to marry. As Isaac stepped back and ran his hand down Derek’s chest to straighten the tie. He smiled in appraisal at his handiwork, but his efforts were short-lived as the stockier man pulled him into an embrace.

**_LATE DECEMBER_ **

The Stilinski house was the designated pack house for Christmas since Melissa had flown to New York to spend it with Scott. The uncomfortable factor in that equation was that meant she had to see his father, Rafe. The two were on civil if not amenable terms, though, so she could manage it if it meant she got to spend time with her son. Stiles had forbidden anyone from telling Scott until after the holidays. He wanted to be the one to do it, but not until his best friend had a Christmas and a New Year’s unmarred by the malignant elephant in the room.

The Sheriff was sitting in his recliner watching the whole scene play out before him with renewed interest. Stiles and Liam were playing a game on the PS4 that he couldn’t remember the name of. Dr. Geyer was working tonight, as was Liam’s mother. Both had agreed to work Christmas Eve in order to get tomorrow off. Brett was spending the holiday with his sister anyway, so Scott’s Beta was bored and more than willing to pass the night away with the others.

Jackson was laying on the couch with his arms wrapped around Isaac, who was laying atop him and had a smile on his face that said there was no better place in the world. Isaac had no family to spend the holidays with, and Jackson’s parents weren’t exactly a picture print from Currier & Ives, so he gladly took the opportunity to bail on family plans to spend it with his boyfriend and pack.

That left Derek, who was sitting far away from the rest, next to the Sheriff’s chair. Still relegated to no man’s land, every now and then, the former Alpha would catch one of the others offering a pitying glance in his direction. All he could do was lament and sigh, because when Stiles looked in his direction, it was the proverbial immoveable object. Stilinski reached over and gave Derek’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he stood and walked over to the tree.

“You need something, Dad?” Stiles quickly asked, pausing the game and hopping to his feet.

The Sheriff shot a glance in his direction. “Yeah. I need you to sit back down and stop treating me like an invalid. I ain’t dead yet,” he grumbled as he reached for one of the packages. “And while you’re at it, you can stop being a horse’s ass to your boyfriend. Come give me a hand passing these out, son.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Getting senile, Daddio? You just told me to sit down. Can’t make up your mind?”

“I said what I meant, and I meant what I said. I wasn’t talking to you,” he fired back, motioning for Derek to join him. Hesitantly, the pureblood did as he was told, eyeing Stiles warily as he helped pass out the gifts.

The teenagers tore open the various packages with gusto. Melissa and the Sheriff had both gotten them each something, and nearly all had something for the others under the tree as well, amassing quite the Grinch-worthy haul. When it was all said and done, though, only two presents remained—because the gifters seemed hesitant.

One belonged to Derek… it was Stiles’ present. The Sheriff could see the hesitancy, so he motioned to other young man who was struggling with the words to accompany what they were offering. “Jackson, did you have something for Isaac?” he asked, giving Derek another moment to steel himself. It was an almost rhetorical question, as he held a box in his hands.

“I told you I didn’t want you getting me anything,” Isaac smiled. “It’s not like anything I could have gotten you would come close to what you could afford, Richie Rich.”

The gentle jest seemed to reassure Jackson, who exhaled the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I didn’t buy you anything. Not exactly, anyway.” He opened the box to reveal its contents—a medal. “It’s the Distinguished Service Cross… for Camden. I got my Dad to pull some strings and get a posthumous review. It’s no big deal. It would have happened anyway—I just got his file bumped up. I pulled a few more strings so I could give them to you tonight. There will be a presentation ceremony next month. Like I said, it’s no big de….”

Jackson was interrupted by Isaac practically pouncing him, pushing him onto the carpet and all but shoving his tongue down the Alpha’s throat. The medal and its case toppled sideways, and Stiles picked it up and closed the lid with a smile. “Someone’s getting lucky tonight… or in the next five minutes,” he chuckled. “Alright, Sour-Wolf. Let’s see what you got. That’s gonna be a tough act to follow.”

Derek was all-too-aware of that fact. He had to consciously keep his hands steady as he handed over the gift to Stiles. “It’s actually for you and your Dad. I hope you like it.”

When he ripped off the paper from one side of what was very obviously a frame, Stiles saw his mother’s face. Few, including Stiles, had any idea of Derek’s ability to paint. It was a creative side of him that he kept closely guarded just for himself. As Stiles pulled the rest of the paper away, he saw his father smiling back at him from the canvas as well. It was a near-perfect replica of the pair at the age when they were married. Claudia and the Sheriff had eloped, so this was like the wedding photograph they never had. “I hope I did her justice,” Derek quickly added. “I was going from memory of what she looked like. I could have probably gotten a more recent picture from you, but I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

“It’s perfect,” the Sheriff assured him, pulling Derek into a fierce hug. He cradled the younger man’s head in his hand. “It’s absolutely perfect.”

Derek relaxed into the embrace until the patriarch pulled away. Both looked over to Stiles, who was silently just… staring at it. “Stiles?” both men asked, almost in unison.

Stiles set the portrait down and walked over to Derek, his eyes moist with tears. “Yes,” he smiled, wiping his cheek before resting his chin on the crook of the larger man’s neck. “A thousand times, yes, I will marry you.”

Liam looked over at Jackson with a quirky grin. “I don’t think you’re the only one who’s gonna get lucky tonight.”

 

**_EARLY JANUARY_ **

“I’m so sorry McCall couldn’t be here,” Jackson offered. “He should be your best man, not me. You sure you don’t want to delay the wedding another day and give him, Melissa, and Kira a chance to get here?”

Stiles returned a sympathetic smile and shook his head. “Scott has been my best friend and my brother for as long as I remember, but in the past months, you’ve been there for me. You, literally, saved my life. You’re both my Alpha and my friend. You’re not the jackass I started high school with,” he grinned. “I don’t think we’re going to have to wait twenty years for a reunion. Award for the most changed definitely goes to you. Pretty much impossible to top.”

Jackson blushed at the unabashed praise—proof that he definitely was _not_ the Jackson of old. “Thanks, but I think most of that credit goes to Isaac. He’s the one who pulled me out of myself, even when I didn’t think I wanted it.”

Stiles seemed to seriously consider his words for a moment. “Maybe you’re right. I wonder if it’s too late to get Derek to switch his best man for mine.” The crinkle at the corners of his eyes gave away his mirth first, but a full-on guffaw wasn’t far behind. “Will you stop being stupid? You make each other better, but _you_ are the one who’s come back a far better man you left… a _best_ man.”

Jackson’s blush intensified. “I hate you, Stilinski,” he tried to deadpan, but failing miserably.

 

**_FEBRUARY_ **

As the service ended, everyone lingered around the graveside a little longer, despite the temperature drop. Lori Talbot started for her car with a shiver, and Chris Argent was the one who offered her his overcoat while her brother and Liam just stared at the casket below them. It would have been an odd sight—seeing werewolf and hunter together—anywhere but Beacon Hills. Melissa McCall and Noshiko Yukimura were exchanging words as they looked on at their children fondly.

Scott and Kira were talking to Jackson and Isaac. Even from this distance, Stiles’ heightened hearing could hear promises of visiting going in both directions. It made him smile, and since his head was lilted into Derek’s arms, the pureblood could feel it. “What?”

The older werewolf had pretty much had his senses forever, and in the company of friends, he made a conscious effort not to eavesdrop. Stiles hadn’t had enough practice to instinctively block things out that way, and given his inquisitive nature, he likely never would anyway. He just shook his head, so Derek buried his nose into the other werewolf’s hair and hugged him tighter.

Stiles wrapped his arm around Derek’s muscular forearm. Patting it, he smiled again. “Let’s go home.”

 

**_LATE JANUARY_ **

The Sheriff’s hospital room was cramped most of the time. Most of the werewolf population of Beacon Hills was sprawled out in chairs and on the floor around the clock. While some of the hospital staff objected initially, Liam’s parents being in Administration and Melissa being a long-respected member of the ER staff managed to quell to complaints. Sheriff Stilinski used to tell them all to go home and quit fussing over him, but that ended about as well as expected. By now, though, he was virtually unresponsive most of the time—like tonight. The mixed pairs were scattered about: Scott and Kira on the couch, Isaac and Jackson on another couch they had commandeered from another, Brett and Liam on the floor, and Stiles staring at his father from one chair while Derek watched Stiles with equal concern from another.

When the Sheriff moaned, Stiles instantly leaned over to place his hand on his father’s arm. The black streaks coursed quick and endlessly into the werewolf as he tried to take the man’s pain. Tears started streaming down his face as he realized just how much the cancer was hurting him. It was so much, he couldn’t take it all, and just when he was about to let go before it killed him, Stiles felt Derek’s touch. The former Alpha was taking Stiles’ pain. A harsh realization hit them both it still wasn’t subduing. Before they knew it, though, other hands were on them. On either side of Stiles were Derek and Scott. On either side of Derek were Isaac and Jackson. On either side of Scott were Liam and Brett. Branching off from the Sheriff, each werewolf lessened the load of those before him, and soon, the cancer-stricken man breathed a sigh of relief and fell into a relaxed sleep.

When Stiles finally let go—being the last to do so—he stood, his breathing hitching in his throat as he tried not to collapse into fitful weeping. “Thank you all,” he sobbed, and everyone gathered around him, embracing him a fierce pack hug.

“I wish we could do more,” Scott told him, crying himself.

Jackson nodded in agreement but couldn’t speak. He was shedding tears himself, and it was all he could do not to surrender to the wolf within and howl with pain. He felt that he had failed his Beta—his _friend_ —but even with Derek’s coaching, neither he nor Scott had been able to cure the cancer, even willing to sacrifice their Alpha spark to do it… the disease had progressed too far.

 

**_EARLY JANUARY_ **

Derek stood before everyone in his suit, shifting nervously. Stiles seemed steady as a rock. The original priest who was to officiate the ceremony was currently in the delivery room with his wife, so another had agreed to step in at the last minute. Motioning to Stiles, he smiled. “Who gives this man in marriage?”

His father stood, grinning broadly. “I do.”

Once the Sheriff took his seat, the priest turned to Derek. “Who gives this man in marriage?”

The pureblood suddenly found himself wishing Cora was here. She was pretty much the only family he had left, but she wasn’t here. He was just about to tell the priest to continue when he heard someone say, “I do.” He looked over his shoulder to see Melissa McCall beaming at him. As he looked at her, he could almost see Talia standing where she stood. Her willingness to act in his mother’s stead only went to show how close they had truly come since he had moved in. As he marveled at her gesture, he didn’t even hear the rest of the priest’s words….

… At least until he pronounced them married and told them to kiss.

 

**_MAY_ **

“Congratulations, Class of 2013!” the Principal cheered, and instantly, the scores of caps went sailing into the air.

Immediately after graduation, Stiles, Isaac, and Jackson left the stage and went in search of the others. It was easy to spot Brett in the crowd. At 6’2”, he towered over pretty much everyone but Isaac, particularly his much shorter boyfriend Liam he was dragging in tow. Scott and Kira—whose own graduation in New York was still a couple of weeks away—were right behind. When Lydia and Derek brought up the rear, both were smiling at Stiles.

“Okay, I want a picture!” Melissa shouted, camera in hand.

When the pack didn’t immediately respond, a louder voice echoed out enough to cut through the din of their excitement. “You heard the lady, cram it together, people!” the Sheriff smiled.

 

**_FEBRUARY_ **

As he and Stiles readied themselves to leave the cemetery, Derek walked over to Brett and Liam. Hands in his pockets, he stared at the temporary headstone with them:

_Satomi Ito_

He placed his hand on Brett’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze—one pureblood to another—offering sympathy to the boy who had just lost his Alpha.

 

**_AUGUST_ **

They all gathered at Stiles’ house as they prepared to say their goodbyes. Jackson and Isaac just had a couple of backpacks. The former Kanima had deferred entry into Stanford (where he planned to follow in his adoptive father’s footsteps as a lawyer). Isaac wasn’t sure school was in his future. The pair had compromised on taking a year off to travel around Europe. The once co-captain of the lacrosse team was eighteen now, and he had inherited a massive trust fund that meant they had the freedom to go and do whatever they wanted.

Scott and Kira were ready to head back to New York. She was planning on attending Columbia, where Ken’s position would make her education all but free. Scott had found a school not far from the campus to get his undergraduate degree in biology before enrolling in a veterinary program. Melissa was going to be driving them to the airport before too much longer. For now, she was standing next to the Sheriff, leaning against him with the increasing familiarity they had developed since he got out of the hospital.

Stilinski was watching Derek and Stiles shove boxes into the back of Roscoe—much to Derek’s dismay. The old jeep was unreliable, but Stiles refused to part from it. When Stiles caught his father staring at them, he found himself smiling at Jackson and Scott with renewed appreciation. The chain of pain draining had given one of them an idea (though he didn’t know which initially). The pair had been able to combine their efforts to heal Stiles’ father… but at the cost of the Alpha power of both. It was a decision neither regretted.

Derek walked over to where Brett and Liam were waiting to see everyone off. “We’re just going to be a few hours away,” Derek assured them, as though they had somehow forgotten that Stiles would be at UCLA studying Criminal Justice. Derek, after some convincing by everyone, had decided to attend an art school.

Scott joined them as well. “We’re _all_ just a phone call away, if you need us,” he assured them.

Stiles walked over and pushed past both of them. “Guys, how about you leave it to them. We’re all moving on and leaving Beacon Hills in their capable hands. Brett, I know you’ll make Satomi proud,” he told the younger pureblood.

Brett’s eyes shone with the red power that the ancient Buddhist had passed to him. “I will.”


End file.
